Dawn of the Chaos Bringer
by QuantumSheep
Summary: NEST and the Autobots must battle a powerful Decepticon known as Centurion who arrives on Earth in order to find the means to bring Unicron into our reality. At the same time, a rogue human organization attempts to take advantage of the crisis.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_About seventy years ago…_

The landscape was dark and oppressive, with tall craggy cliffs and pits of flowing lava and flames. An industrial tower in the distance was emitting a mile-high plume of smoke and ash which in turn rained down upon the surrounding landscape, the thick falling smoke making it next to impossible to see. Tall monolithic alien structures jutted out from the craggy black rocks and metal surfaces, some of which had been partially destroyed in battles past fought.

This world was dead, uninhabitable by most forms of life and unable to create life of its own. The single sun had long since extinguished itself, having become a quivering quasar that sent forth wave after wave of dangerous radiation. Above the sky was thick with smoke and ash, the once blue skies of this world long gone.

This planet had once been a paradise to those who had inhabited it, home to once great futuristic cities and rolling metal plains. It hadn't been long before now that a war had broken out, ravaging the planet and killing millions and leaving it as it was now: dead.

Even amongst the dead landscape there was still some life, albeit the only life that could possibly exist in such a harsh place. A trio of tall, metallic looking figures had been trudging along the landscape for a while now, this visual systems making it easier to see through the smoke and ash while they kept on the lookout for possible enemy patrols.

They weren't really organic, the three being more of a chemical based life-form. Each was about twenty-five to thirty-feet tall, maybe somewhat shorter and all bore silver-grey armour plating. The one in the lead was taller and more imposing than the others, covered with more armour and with a pair of metallic blue eyes that lit up the darkness around them. In the right hand he carried a large gun and a closer look would have revealed it to actually have been a part of his arm. The three life-forms were ready for war and this was exactly the reason why they were making their way across the dead landscape: they were going to fight, albeit fight a dangerous and ruthless enemy that had almost slipped right under their radar during the previous world-devastating conflict.

The world was called Cybertron, once a jewel of the galaxy but now a blackened ball of lifeless rock and metal. With millions, possibly billions, dead it made sense that the remaining inhabitants had fled, some in search of the All-spark whilst others had merely left to find a much better place to call home.

The three here had not left this world, not yet anyway. There was still unfinished business, business that would turn out to be the most important they had attended to for a long time. They didn't know it yet, but their coming actions would in turn create a chain of events that would have consequences far into the future.

The trio passed by ne of the smoking monolithic structures, having once been a tall and proud skyscraper but now reduced to a devastated husk. It was here the trio stopped and the leader of the small group took the time to survey their surroundings in order to contemplate on their next move.

He knew that their job would be dangerous and their efforts would have a lasting effect on the future of their race. It was because of the sheer importance of this mission that he and the two others with him had not chosen to leave with the others. They would eventually, but not now. There was something they had to do first, someone they had to find. This someone had to be brought to justice and stopped before he did what he had been planning to do…they had to stop him before he committed anymore atrocities.

The leader of the trio turned to the others with him, taking the time to look at each in turn. The smoke and ash had already begun to take its toll on the motor functions of all three of them, their movements becoming increasingly less fluid and far creakier, as if they were rusting in several different places. They were all far too young for this to be happening but the environment seemed to be speeding up the inevitable process. The leader clenched his left hand, able to hear the joints creaking with uncertainty at the movement. He managed the equivalent of a frown on his robotic features, knowing that the longer they spent here the more rusted and corroded they would get.

Hence, time was of the essence. He could tell by the readings he was getting from the others that they weren't too pleased with their circumstances and he could only agree with them. Their home-world had become an oppressive, lifeless place that seemed to age prematurely all those had stayed on it for long enough. He could remember how their world had looked before the devastation of the war and the clean atmosphere it had once had, the once powerful sun having shone brightly upon their majestic cities. He had once had an ordinary life, as had all the other survivors of their race. It was because of this war that he had become a warrior, one of many in a long line of Primes.

"How far now, Optimus?" One of the others asked, glancing over at the leader of their group, "I feel like I'm getting older just standing here…"

The leader of this small enterprising group, Optimus Prime, took a moment to answer. He looked out at the landscape ahead, taking note of the lone intact structure further down the black and rocky plain. A stream of molten lava flowed past this structure, sending up sizzling orange spurts as it crashed against the rocks. It was an imposing location, one that was enough to strike fear into even the most strong-willed of warriors.

"Not far now, Ironhide," Optimus replied, trying to at least sound optimistic. It was hard to sound happy when you were in a place like this, surrounded by pits of lava and slowly corroding thanks to the harsh atmosphere.

Ironhide gave the equivalent of a sigh and stepped beside Optimus, sharing the somewhat bleak view of they had of the landscape around them. He glanced briefly towards the imposing and monolithic structure in the distance, as if contemplating on what they would encounter there. He knew just as well as Optimus that there was an enemy residing in that structure, one far more dangerous than Megatron.

Behind them, the youngest member of the trio stood restlessly. He seemed to be continually shifting where he stood, as if unable to keep still. In one hand he held a compact energy cannon which he spun it around in his grip, showing off more to himself than anyone else. He had been practicing that sort of move for a while now and seemed to have it perfected.

It hadn't been Optimus' first intention to bring his only son along but the youngster had been determined into coming along, even if it meant obeying his father's wishes. He preferred to refer to himself as "Deadeye", referring to his self-titled expertise with a weapon. Optimus didn't agree, never having actually seen his son in action with a weapon. Then again, he would never get a chance to show off his apparent skills if he didn't encounter any hostile forces, hence he had been eager to come along on this journey to apprehend a war criminal. It would mean he might get a chance to show off his finesses with a weapon although Optimus was quite adamant to make sure this mission didn't end in bloodshed. He was certain he could convince the one they were after to come quietly.

"Why have we stopped for?" The youngster frowned, looking towards the two elders with an expectant look on his face, "we can't just stop…Centurion's still out there…"

"Just be quiet, son," Optimus said sternly, his thoughts interrupted by the youngster's eager mood, "I'm trying to think."

Deadeye fell silent…for about a second.

"But Centurion…if you're right about what he's trying to do, then we can't just stand here and let him do it…We have to go and kill him..."

"We're not going to kill anyone," Optimus said, slightly flustered by the consistent barrage of complaints and questions his son was sending his way, "unless it is absolutely necessary. Do you understand? I didn't bring you along just so you could ruin our chances of taking Centurion alive."

Deadeye thought about this for a moment, ceasing with the spinning of his gun. With a fluid movement the gun compacted itself back into his arm, allowing the youngster to think a bit more clearly without the distraction of his sidearm.

"I understand, father," Deadeye said, able to tell that his father wasn't in much of a mood for constant complaints. Instead, the youngster sat himself on a nearby boulder and got lost in his own thoughts, allowing Optimus and Ironhide to continue with their conversation.

Ironhide leaned over to Optimus, whispering quietly.

"Did we really have to bring him along?" Ironhide asked, doubt audible in his voice, "he has no combat experience whatsoever…And he's your only son. Was it a wise move, Optimus?"

Optimus nodded, acknowledging Ironhide's doubts. There had been a time when Optimus would never have even thought of dragging his son along on a potentially dangerous mission such as this. However, he and Ironhide would be hard-pressed to carry it out successfully. There was just the two of them against a dangerous and powerful Decepticon war criminal, one who was responsible for many deaths and had tried on many occasions to install himself as the leader of the Decepticons, in place of Megatron.

Understandably, Megatron didn't like this and so had more or less made sure that Centurion received little in the way of loyal followers. Centurion had disappeared a short while ago; he was only recently detected during a routine sweep of the area which had revealed that he had set up some sort of hideout in an abandoned but intact structure.

It had been Optimus' idea to come out here and attempt, at the very least to apprehend him. He knew much of the Decepticons and their strategies in the war that never seemed to end. Centurion probably knew Megatron's location and what he was planning. In fact, Centurion seemed to know an awful lot about things that didn't really concern him. He probably had spies all throughout the opposing factions in the war. The thought had occurred to Optimus that there were probably a few of those spies within the ranks of the Autobots. If there were any it would be near impossible to reveal them, hence the reason that getting Centurion alive would be a better thing to do. He could tell them of the spies and the next moves the Decepticons were planning on making, giving the Autobots a much needed boost in the war effort.

Optimus hadn't actually encountered Centurion face-to-face before, having only heard of what others had said about him. Centurion had simply come out of nowhere during one time in the war, gaining his own sub-set of Decepticon followers and gradually building in strength so he could eventually use his army to take down Megatron. His plans had failed miserably and so Centurion, whilst keeping close ties to the spies he had planted within the Decepticon ranks, had gone on the run in order to build up another army.

The Autobots that had previously encountered him had either never returned or returned wounded and near-death. Centurion was apparently quite persuasive, quite literally able to talk some of the Autobots into joining his cause. It was unnerving that one was capable of wielding this power, talking fellow Cybertronians into joining his cause. Optimus was quite determined to make sure such a thing didn't happen to him, Ironhide or the eager young Deadeye.

"We need the extra help," Optimus finally replied, almost forgetting that Ironhide had previously asked him a question, "and besides, he needs some combat experience. He's going to end up fighting in this war just as we all have sooner or later: best to get him used to it now so that he's better prepared for the more fierce battles we may face in the future."

Ironhide nodded, although there was still doubt etched on his features. Optimus couldn't help but share the same sort of feelings but he knew that it was about time for his son to join in on the war effort. There was no use in having him hang around with nothing to do when their race was fighting itself to extinction around them.

"Let's get moving," Optimus said, starting along the black rocky cliff-face they had taken rest by. Deadeye stood up immediately when he heard this, excited at the prospect that he would finally get into his first fight. Optimus was quite determined to try and take Centurion without actually firing a shot but something told him that this would be difficult to achieve.

The trio continued on their way to the mostly intact structure in the distance, traversing uneven rocky terrain as ash rained down upon them. Hot smoke billowed out of natural steam vents around them as the three Autobots ran, jumped and climbed their way across the landscape. Occasionally one of them would slip in the uneven mass of ash that had covered the ground, only for one of the others to help him up.

They were several kilometres from one of Cybertron's largest cities, one that had once been a shining jewel of alien architecture and technological progress. The empty, devastated husks of its monolithic skyscrapers were visible on the horizon, the city a dark and foreboding place that had become as lifeless as the rest of the planet. It was a sad testament to what war was capable of doing, reducing some of the greatest cities to nothing but lifeless hell-holes.

This mission, to apprehend Centurion, was one of only a few things Optimus and the other Autobots had planned as a sort of revenge against the Decepticons for having started this war. If it hadn't been for Megatron and his Decepticon followers things might have turned out differently. Apprehending Centurion was one step towards finally finding and getting rid of Megatron, a feat that would be difficult to carry out but would no doubt end this war and provide some relief in the cause of the Autobots.

The trio finally stopped in the valley that ran alongside the structure that Centurion had made his base of operations. From here it looked as lifeless as the rest of the planet but if the information Optimus had received was correct then inside would be the main headquarters of a Decepticon war criminal. Optimus clenched his left hand into a fist at the thought of finally getting back at the ones that had started this war and left their race near extinct. However, he reminded himself of the values he had taught the other Autobots who served beneath him. No one should die unless absolutely necessary, regardless of what that one in particular had done.

Optimus would do his best to stick with the code he had made for the rest of the Autobots, but when it came to fighting the enemy nothing could be guaranteed. Killing a fellow Cybertronian had become an all too common thing to do since this war had started and even he was getting worried that it was becoming a mere second-nature to him. Becoming as remorseless as your enemies was a sign that you were becoming more like them.

Looking around, it took Optimus a moment to determine where their best point of approach would be. He saw the entrance to the structure a little way up the slope of the valley: a large silver door that stood out against the mostly dark and rocky backdrop. A closer scan and Optimus realized that the building had once been used as a medical facility: somewhat ironic if there was about to be a whole lot of violence inside.

"How many of Centurion's followers will we have to deal with?" Ironhide asked from behind, breaking Optimus Prime's concentration, "I don't see any…"

"He can't have many," Deadeye commented, having drawn his sidearm as he scanned their surroundings. He was probably hoping to find something to shoot at but it seemed that there was nobody out here except for the three of them. This may be a good or a bad thing, depending on what either option implied. It was good since they wouldn't be discovered and it was bad because it meant that all of Centurion's followers would be inside.

"According to reports from our scouts he has several," Optimus said, "all of them willing to die for their leader. Undoubtedly Centurion will have himself protected fairly well…"

"Then what are we waiting for?" Deadeye asked, excited at the prospect of a potential shootout, "let's go in there and put them all out of their misery…"

Optimus held up a hand, signalling his son to stop in his tracks. He managed the equivalent of a sigh at Deadeye's recklessness, shaking his head. Maybe bringing him along hadn't been such a good idea after all. Of course, he couldn't simply tell his son to turn around and leave. For one thing, he wouldn't follow such instructions and for another it would simply be inconvenient. Deadeye was here and he was going to stay to see this mission through.

"Not so fast, son," Optimus said bluntly. Deadeye took a step back, disheartened but still pleased enough to start spinning his gun in his right hand again.

"We need to approach this carefully," Optimus continued before turning to Ironhide, "Ironhide, you stay on my left while I'll take the right. We'll be able to cover each other that way."  
He turned back to his son who didn't seem to be quite listening; instead Deadeye continued to spin his gun around in his right hand. It was beginning to get annoying but Optimus didn't see the point in complaining.

"Deadeye, you will stay behind us in order to make sure no enemy is able to take us from behind," Optimus ordered, finally resigning himself in referring to his son by what now seemed to be his official designation. All of them had full Cybertronian names but using simplified designations was often more convenient, especially during a firefight.

"Me, stay at the rear?" Deadeye shook his head, stopping with the spinning of his gun. "In other words, you don't think I'm good enough so you're relegating me to the backseat…"  
Optimus shook his head again, only slightly flustered by his son's cocky attitude. He hadn't seen any combat experience so it was only logical to put him in the place where he would face less danger…and probably less of a fight, but Optimus felt it would be for the best.

"Yes, you're at the rear," Optimus said sternly, using the tone of voice a father often used in order to tell off a misbehaving son or daughter, "and you're going to follow my orders, regardless of how we are related. You're in the war now…get used to it, Deadeye."

Deadeye fell silent, looking a little more sullen than previously but otherwise he had resigned to his rear position during the raid. He was probably quite annoyed but Optimus didn't care, as long as he behaved.

Optimus turned to Ironhide, who had been waiting patiently for the exchange between father and son to finish.

"You two ready?" He asked, "Because I am." Ironhide had taken out both of his cannons, both of which took up most of his forearms. Ironhide was a weapons specialist after all so it made sense that he had the better weaponry.

"Nice cannons," Deadeye remarked upon seeing Ironhide's arsenal, "where can I find a load-out like that?"

Ironhide was about to reply, something that Optimus knew he had to prevent. When Ironhide got started on talking about guns it was unlikely that talk would finish for a long time.

"We've wasted enough time already," Optimus interrupted, noticing Ironhide give an annoyed look as he was prevented from talking about what he liked most.

"I was just asking Ironhide a question…" Deadeye started but Optimus interrupted his son as well, deciding that standing here and talking was probably the last thing they should be doing.

"There will be plenty of time for questions after we have dealt with Centurion and his followers," Optimus said, always the reasonable one of a group, "I have already told you both that time is against us. Centurion is up to something…our scouts reported that he was conducting some sort of experiments. Whatever it is, we must put a stop to it."

It was true that the scouts that had provided the reconnaissance on Centurion's headquarters here had revealed such facts. It was apparent that the Decepticon war criminal was up to something, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to set up a remote headquarters on their devastated home-world. What he was doing was unknown as all information was fairly vague. It just happened to be the sort of thing Optimus knew he had to stop, regardless of what it was that Centurion was doing. It couldn't have been anything good; that was for certain.

"Experiments? Sounds real interesting…" Deadeye's remark was lost on the rest of the group since Optimus and Ironhide had already started up to the building's entrance. Deadeye started following, his words lost in the thick smoky air.

Arriving at the door, Optimus was unsurprised to find it locked. He stepped back from it and surveyed it briefly, deciding on how they would get past. Ironhide was the one to come up with the solution, perhaps not as creative as Optimus would have hoped but definitely a viable option.

"How about I just blast it down?" Ironhide asked, readying his arm cannons.

"And alert all of the enemies inside?" Optimus knew better than to reply to a question with another question but he couldn't really think of anything else to say.

"We can take them," Ironhide replied confidently, waiting for Optimus to move out of his way so he can fire, "there can't be _that_ many of them, anyway."

Optimus thought about this for a moment, having hoped for a plan of approach a little more inventive than shooting their way through but it seemed that this was the sort of plan that would probably work. There was only the one entrance and there were no outside guards, thus Centurion probably didn't have many followers to spare.

"Go ahead, Ironhide," Optimus said resignedly, stepping away from the door. He watched as a pleased looking Ironhide prepared to fire both of his energy cannons, taking his time as he took aim towards the door. Optimus stood by Deadeye and waited for Ironhide to go ahead and do it, readying his own weapons while waiting.

Ironhide fired, both cannons thundering in the open. Two large swirling balls of energy went zooming forth from the ends of his cannons before slamming into the door, blowing it right out of the doorway. Beyond was a large room, some sort of entrance lobby that had been converted into storage. Before the smoke had settled Ironhide had raced inside, cannons at the ready.

Optimus followed him with Deadeye close behind, the trio racing into the room only for chain-gun fire to pound them from ahead. Immediately the three scattered, finding cover amongst the metal containers.

Ahead were three Decepticons in their standard armoured grey-black forms, red eyes glowing fiercely and weapons readied as they strafed chain-gun fire right across the positions of the three Autobots. Ironhide rolled from cover and opened fire, hitting one of the Decepticons square in the chest which in turn sent the enemy flying backwards, large smouldering chunks blown out of him. He slammed into the wall far behind him, slumping down against it.

"_Hold off the non-believers!"_ A booming vice echoed from the building's announcement system, one Optimus could guess at being Centurion's, _"Keep them from getting any further! I only need more time!"_

"Non-believers?" Deadeye frowned, a little incredulous to what Centurion meant by that. Neither Optimus nor Ironhide had any idea either but now probably wasn't the time to argue about it, seeing as they were in the middle of something.

Deadeye stepped out of cover, weapon raised as he expertly fired several shots at the Decepticon closest to him, a well placed shot to the Decepticon's head silencing him. Deadeye sidestepped a missile the last Decepticon launched towards him, barely even hesitating as he blasted this Decepticon right in the face.

Satisfied, Deadeye spun his gun around in his right-hand, pleased with himself. Optimus was somewhat surprised, exchanging glances with Ironhide. Maybe Deadeye wasn't as inexperienced as Optimus had originally thought.

"He's good," Ironhide commented.

Optimus didn't reply, instead he looked towards his son who in turn made eye contact with him. Deadeye shrugged at his father's incredulous glance, as if it didn't really bother him.

"Any encouragement, father?" Deadeye asked, amused at the way his father was regarding him, "or am I still not good enough for you?"

Optimus didn't reply immediately. Instead, he turned to survey the room and where they could go on from here. Deadeye lost interest in waiting for any encouragement from his father and resorted to spinning his gun around in his right hand again.

"_Incapable fools!"_ It was Centurion again, sounding understandably agitated, _"I only need more time!"_

_More time for what?_ Optimus didn't know what it was that Centurion needed more time to do but he wasn't about to wait around and find out. He started on towards the door ahead which slid pen as he approached, revealing an elevator behind. Stepping inside he was soon followed by Ironhide and Deadeye, the door closing as the three stood waiting in the elevator. With the press on the holographic control panel the elevator started to head up, travelling at a steady pace.

It was strangely silent during the trip up, none of the three Autobots saying anything. The silence was abruptly broken by Centurion's booming voice again.

"_Stop them when they come out of the elevator!"_ He ordered, probably to whatever last remaining number of loyal followers he had, _"they must not be allowed to interfere!"_

"This guy is beginning to annoy me," Deadeye said bluntly, seconds before the door opened. Immediately the three Autobots broke out of their brief reverie, racing out of the elevator and into a large room which ended at a set of doors. In the room were pillars and several of Centurion's disgruntled Decepticon followers, all of which opened fire as the three intruders came charging out of the elevator.

Chunks were blown out of the metal walls around them as the three Autobots sought cover, Ironhide blasting away one of the Decepticons as he ran. Chain-gun rounds pinged off of their armour while a missile went zooming past Deadeye, slamming into a wall behind him and detonating. Fire and smoke briefly smother Deadeye but when it cleared seconds later he was still standing, mostly intact save for some scorch marks on his back.

Optimus dived to one side, firing his cannon as he went sliding across the polished metal floor. He managed to take down one of the Decepticons, blowing its arm clean off before another shot punched a hole right through its chest. Optimus ceased sliding when he slammed into the wall on one side of the room, quickly swivelling to face the enemies ahead. There were about three left now, all running for cover behind the pillars that lined the room. One Decepticon was still on his way to cover so Optimus took careful aim and fired a few shots in quick succession with his cannon, part of the Decepticon's head being blown away. The Decepticon's limp body went tumbling onto the floor, sliding a short distance before coming to rest.

Ironhide switched from his energy cannons to his single shock cannon which was on his right arm. This particular weapon fired a cluster of high explosive rounds at the target, capable of blowing large holes in whatever was in the way. With the shock cannon ready he took aim at the pillar one of the Decepticons had taken cover behind, firing a cluster of rounds which in turn blew the pillar to pieces. The Decepticon stumbled back, now exposed which allowed Ironhide to fire another cluster which blew the Decepticon into several pieces.

The last Decepticon had begun to fall back, turning around in order to fire his chain-guns at the three advancing Autobots. Deadeye was the one to take him down, raising his sidearm and firing a single shot. This shot hit the Decepticon right between the eyes, blowing a hole right through his head. With a dumbfounded expression on its face, the Decepticon fell to the floor.

"_You three Autobot scum do not stand a chance!"_ Centurion was agitated now; this was evident in his voice. _"I will kill you, just as I have killed many of your kind before you!"_

"Whatever," Deadeye said simply, unconvinced of Centurion as a threat. Without much delay the young Autobot made his way to the door at the end of the room, kicking it down and revealing the vast chamber behind it.

In the centre of the room was a machine that Optimus, in all his experience in this war, had never actually seen before. It was tall with columns of rippling blue energy flowing over it, although where this energy was coming from was hard to tell. Standing behind the pillar was Centurion, at least five feet taller than Optimus and covered in spiky, intimidating silver armour.

Centurion's red eyes fell upon Optimus Prime and for a second the pair made eye contact. Optimus quickly averted his eyes, finding that Centurion's gaze already seemed t be looking straight into him, as if he could see into his mind. Optimus preferred not to become distracted by such things. Centurion was certainly an intimidating Decepticon, perhaps more so than Megatron. He certainly looked annoyed at the arrival of the three intruders but he didn't open fire, at least not yet.

"You are too late," he said bluntly, some satisfaction evident in his voice, "I am only seconds away from completing the cascade sequence…And I am one step closer to becoming more powerful than any of you. More powerful than _anyone_…"

Centurion revealed that he had been holding something long and silver in his left hand. It was long, with points at either end, sort of like a spear. Along its centre ran a column of the swirling blue energy, implying that it had a use other than to look good.

Centurion raised the device and with one movement placed it upon his back, the device affixing itself to his body. Within seconds the same sort of energy that was flowing over the pillar and through the device had surrounded him, covering him in a shimmering blue haze that seemed to crackle in the air.

"What are you doing?" Optimus stood his ground, regardless of what was happening. It was obvious that they were too late to stop Centurion from doing what it was he had been planning to do, since he had obviously achieved something. It probably wasn't a good something, either.

"You lose, Prime," Centurion said bluntly. He reached for the pillar and upon his touch the whole thing lit up, enveloping the room in a blue-white glow.

It took a few seconds for Optimus' vision to adjust, his sensors picking up all sorts of high radiation readings that came spilling from the pillar. Whatever it was that Centurion was doing it was having an effect on the air around them, filling it with such high levels of radiation that the temperature soared far beyond normal.

Deadeye came running past his father all of a sudden, firing his cannon at Centurion and the pillar. Optimus was about to yell at his son to stop but before he could he was sent flying backwards by a concussive wave that was sent forth from the pillar, sending both him and Ironhide slamming into the wall behind them. As quickly as it had occurred, the blue-white glow disappeared and the room fell silent.

Dazed and confused, Optimus slowly rose back onto his feet. Ahead, the room was empty save for the pillar which was now a smoking and scorched husk. He looked around desperately for his son but there was no sign of him. There wasn't even a sign of Centurion. It was as if either of them hadn't been there.

Optimus fell to his knees, realizing what this meant. The first time he had brought his own son with him to help in the war…he was gone. And so was the one Decepticon they had come to apprehend. Swallowing back the emotions that threatened to overcome him, Optimus simply gazed towards the pillar, trying to determine what had happened.

Ironhide got up and raced to his friend's side, looking around the now empty room with some confusion. Optimus was as perplexed as he was as to what had happened.

His son was gone, that was the only thing that was on Optimus Prime's mind. How and why didn't matter…the only thing that did was that it _had_ happened.

"What just happened?" Ironhide asked, perplexed, "where's Centurion? And where's your son, Optimus?"

"They're gone," Optimus heard himself say, his tone low and solemn.

Ironhide frowned.

"What? How?" He couldn't believe it, the possible explanations ramming their way through his mind.

"They're both gone," Optimus said, gazing towards the pillar in the centre of the room. Realizing the futility of his situation, he put a hand to his face and simply shook his head.

_One day,_ he thought, _one day I'll find you._

Outside, ash continued to fall.

* * *

**A/N:** This is only the beginning. Sure, Optimus having a son may seem a bit improbable but I thought I'd try it. This story will have a large cast of characters, some original and some not. There'll be plenty of human characters and plenty of robot ones.


	2. Midnight in Arnhem

**Part I: Arnhem Knights**

"_If we don't end war, war will end us."  
_H.G Wells

* * *

**Midnight in Arnhem  
**Arnhem, Holland  
September 19th, 1944

The night sky above was abruptly broken by a pair of sizzling flares, launched by the Germans across the Arnhem River that wound its way through the city. Both flares sent a wave of illumination down onto the deserted and devastated streets of the once beautiful Dutch city and almost immediately a streak of machine gun fire shot across the river to the other side, hammering a set of sand bags. The two British soldiers taking cover behind were cut down within seconds, their bodies falling limp and their rifles clattering onto the pavement.

The flares descended and the German machine gun nest fell silent, almost as quickly as it had sent bullets lancing across the river and past the bridge. Thick plumes of smoke wafted from the burnt out husks of several vehicles that were parked on the bridge, the results of battles fought in the previous few days. The bridge itself had been the centre of heavy fighting, British paratroopers having set up defensive positions in order to prevent the Germans from retaking it.

The bridge in Arnhem had been one of the main objectives of the British 1st Airborne Division, as part of Operation Market Garden. The British paratroopers were to capture the bridge and the city of Arnhem and hold until the XXX Armoured Corps arrived. It was all part of the original plan of Operation Market Garden, an operation that had only started a few days earlier but had already gone down the drain in a figurative sense.

American, British and Polish Airborne Divisions had been dropped into Holland to secure bridges and towns across the country, effectively opening up a way straight into Germany. The plan, if successful, could end the war in Europe by Christmas. With a "highway" straight into Germany, the Allies were free to go straight in and pound the Germans into submission, taking over their industrial heartland in the Ruhr area. With that out of the way the German war machine would be crippled.

The original plan had been relying on several things to be just right, such as weather and the speed of the XXX Corps, as well as German knowledge of the airborne attack. It was no wonder then that, in the perception of the besieged British paratroopers in Arnhem, this plan had been too optimistic for its own good.

Major George Weller was an experienced British paratrooper, having fought in Italy and France in past operations. Now here he was, stuck in Arnhem with low ammunition and low supplies of food, forced to hide away inside a partially ruined house near the river. He was dirty, tired and quite fed up with the constant shelling the Germans had been carrying out against them. Shell after shell pounded the streets nearby, demolishing buildings and leaving nothing but piles of rubble. Understandably most of the civilians had evacuated by now, leaving the city mostly deserted save for where the opposing sides of the war fought.

George was about thirty-nine, with short-cut dark hair and a matching moustache. His eyes were a light brown and right now they beared the look that indicated he was tired, very tired. He was sitting to the side of a second-storey window in the house, looking out across the river while keeping himself as unexposed as possible. German snipers were always on the lookout for unsuspecting British paratroopers like him to stick their heads out, only for said heads to be in turn shot clean off. The darkness would hide him but the Germans were letting off flares on a regular basis, always on the lookout for British paratroopers taking shelter in the darkness.

Another shell exploded in the street below, taking with it the roof of a single storey house. Dust and smoke wafted up from the impact zone, chunks of masonry raining down in the wake of the explosion. George barely managed it another glance, having seen such an occurrence far too many times to count. He was used to seeing and hearing things explode, including people. Artillery shells were quite capable of leaving a mess of anyone caught in the blast, sights that had the potential to stay on someone's mind for the rest of their lives.

All of them had been briefed on their mission and what they were to do, assured that the XXX Corps would be here to relieve them and head on into Germany. Unfortunately, the XXX Corps was a bit late…well, more than a _bit_ late. They should have arrived yesterday, in fact, but were apparently held up in the town of Nijmegen, which the 101st and 82nd American Airborne divisions were supposed to have secured by now.

This whole operation had all the elements of one gone terribly wrong. Now George and the remains of their division were stuck in Arnhem, attacked on all sides by superior German forces and more or less left to fend for themselves. Contact with the other Allied forces involved had been lost some time ago, the last intact radio going up in smoke in a literal sense when George's squad's radioman got hit by an artillery shell. There hadn't been much left of the radio after that…or the radioman.

They were left here to fend for themselves, something that was harder than it might have sounded. Not only did the Germans have tanks and artillery but they had the superior numbers as well, completely surpassing anything the British paratroopers had. Tanks had been a problem lately since ordinary paratroopers weren't often equipped with anti-tank weapons: hence, when it came to fighting tanks a good tactic had been to run away or scavenge anti-tank weapons from dead Germans. Usually running away had been the preferred option, unless you were lucky enough to have been equipped with an anti-tank weapon in the first place.

Even now there was a PIAT anti-tank weapon leaning against the wall near where George sat. The PIAT was heavy and often required a mount. The weapon used a sprint-launch mechanism to propel an explosive over a long distance and at high-speeds. It wasn't as fancy as what the Germans had but it was still capable of doing its job, it was just that they were currently low on ammunition for it. George preferred to keep it close, just in case a tank happened to roll into view. It wouldn't be the first time in the last few days that sort of thing had occurred. German tanks were rolling about all through the city, blasting away any building that the Germans thought had British paratroopers inside.

Right now George and the dozen or so fellow British paratroopers in the building with him didn't have much to fear. No German knew they were inside and so far no shells had made a direct hit, thus it was safe to assume that luck was on their side for once. Of course, George knew all too well that luck could suddenly run out. It had in the past, several times.

George had been watching the flares shoot up high and cast down an eerie, wavering glow onto the city below. He had also been observing the skirmishes that lit up the ridge and the nearby streets as German and British squads fought one another. The city had been fairly intact when the Brits had arrived; now a lot of the buildings had been reduced to ruined husks while several fires burned freely in parts of the city. Tracer fire laced across the river as either side took pot shots at one another, the occasional glimpse of movement on the riverbanks making it obvious that there were soldiers there and that the guns weren't simply firing themselves as it may have appeared.

With a yawn George stretched his arms, his paratrooper gear having weighed him down considerably since the drop into Holland. As a result he had removed his weighty vest and kept only what was actually of any use, having dumped a lot of the useless stuff. He had even dumped his helmet upon landing, having replaced it with a distinctive red beret that all British paratroopers like him had.

George sat on a fairly comfortable chair within a typical Dutch house, with a bed over in the corner of the room and a mirror and drawers by one wall. There was a wardrobe over in the other corner, left open by the previous Dutch owners of the house who had hastily packed up plenty of clothes and valuables and left at the first sign of fighting. There were still plenty of goods to be found in the house and earlier in the day George and his squad had raised the house's kitchen, finding plenty of food which they had happily eaten. Even Private Ekholm had proceeded to take "souvenirs", snatching silverware from the kitchen and other valuables with the intention of selling the items when he got back home. George wasn't against his men doing such things since there was a good chance none of them would ever get to see home again.

Leaning against one side of the chair was George's Sten submachine gun, standard-issue to most paratroopers of his rank. It was a fairly unreliable weapon, prone to jamming and going off without warning but so far it had served him well. The trouble he had with it now was that he had barely any ammunition for it left after the fighting that had occurred in previous days.

He could remember the drop into Holland a few days before: it had been a bright, sunny day and they hadn't been shot at once during their drift to the ground. They had landed in a field outside of Arnhem and had swiftly moved into the city to start on their task of capturing it and the bridge. This had been before the large amount of German reinforcements had arrived and began to counterattack. What had started as a seemingly leisurely parachute into a foreign country had become a gritty fight for survival against near impossible odds.

The German reinforcements in question were mostly SS Panzergrenadiers. They were highly trained, well-equipped and battle-hardened veterans who had seen fighting in Italy and France. They were definitely the better types of Germans that George had gone up against, since most of the ones he had encountered in France hadn't even been German but merely Czechs and Poles forced to fight for Germany. Now they were up against the real deal: proper German soldiers with the proper motivation to fight, lead by highly experienced officers. The battles that had taken place in the past few days had been hard and definitely gruelling. It seemed that they wouldn't be ending anytime soon, especially if George and his squad remained in this city without reinforcements for much longer.

Lying on sleeping mats nearby were three other men in George's squad, including the twenty-one year old Private Ekholm. One of the more reliable men of George's squad, Corporal Thomas Davies, was lying on a mat nearby trying to get some sleep. He was having trouble, something that was understandable since there was always the constant sounds of shelling and shooting outside. There was also the threat that some Germans might discover they were hiding out in here, as well as the threat that an artillery shell might land right on this house.

Down in the house's cellar was where they were keeping their wounded while their squad's medic, Private Rogers, tried his best to keep them sane and alive. It was a hard job, especially since they were short on necessary medical supplies. The fighting in the past few days had been intense to say the least and they had taken many losses, mostly wounded. George hadn't been hurt at all, something he felt a little guilty about, especially when he actually saw people he knew as friends hurt and bleeding.

Private Rogers appeared in the doorway ahead, faintly outlined in the darkness. Keeping the house dark was a necessity since any sort of light would make them an easier target for German artillery crews. The darkness seemed to subdue everyone's moods, hence the reason barely anyone had spoken a word since nightfall.

Rogers slowly made his way over to the Major, a sullen look on his face as he approached. Outside, lights flashed and temporarily illuminated the area near the window which was enough to incline George to keep himself out of view of the window itself. The last thing he wanted was for a German sniper to shoot a hole in his brain.

"Ah, Rogers, what's the matter?" George asked, keeping his voice low as to not to awake the sleeping Ekholm, as well as Private Donaldson who was also lying on a mat nearby.

Rogers stopped a pace or two ahead from where George was sitting, his expression grim. His uniform had blood stains all over it although none of that blood was actually his.

"It's Corporal Kelly, sir," Rogers said, his tone resigned. George wasn't looking forward to another discussion about the state of their three wounded squad-mates who were lying in the cellar, barely alive but it was unavoidable. Those men were George's responsibility and it was always jarring when someone was killed under his command.

"What about him?" George knew he probably already was aware of the answer but he decided he would ask anyway.

"He's dead," Rogers said, shaking his head resignedly, "his wounds were too much for him…If only I had had more medical supplies…"

"Don't blame yourself," George said, managing to shake his head as well. Another one of their squad, dead? The Major had gotten used to such an occurrence, especially when it had occurred in the last few days. So many of their men were getting killed or wounded that each successive casualty was having less and less of an effect on the Major. He was getting far too used to it.

"I'm not blaming myself, sir," Rogers said, "I gave up on blaming myself days ago."

"That's good to hear," George replied, trying his best to sound optimistic. What was there to be optimistic about anyway? Half of their squad had been killed in the last few days of fighting and it was likely most of the survivors would end up on the ever-growing casualty list as the fighting continued.

"No use in blaming yourself," George continued, "no use at all. That sort of thing doesn't do good for one's morale, that's for certain."

Rogers stood, listening to the Major and what he had to say. He didn't seem to lighten up much though but then again there wasn't much to lighten up about.

"As much as I hate to admit it, sir, but we just can't keep going like this," Rogers said when George had finished, "I'm completely out of bandages and I've got nothing in the way of pain relief either. If someone gets hit I can't do much to help them…"

"Then we won't get hit," George replied, rather bluntly, "at least, I'll make sure _I_ don't. So you don't have to worry about me, Rogers. I'll be fine."

"That's…uh…reassuring, sir," Rogers said with some noticeable uncertainty. George simply shrugged; he knew there was no use in them all simply moping about thinking of how bad their current situation was and could become.

"What of the other wounded? How are they faring?" This question caught Rogers off-guard a little but the medic quickly composed himself, noticing the Major's expectant expression as he awaited the answer.

"Not too well, sir," Rogers said. George simply nodded, having expected as much.

"I've managed to bandage them up but Burkinshaw's hit pretty bad…I don't think he'll make it without proper medical attention."

"Then leave him for the Germans," George said, knowing that this was probably the best they could do for him, "consult him first, though. If he doesn't want to be a prisoner of war leave him with a pistol and some ammunition."

"You can't be serious, sir!" Rogers exclaimed suddenly, "sure, we can leave him for the Germans…but the latter option, with the pistol? What are you saying? We let him get himself killed?"

George took a deep breath when he heard this response. Rogers was only new to this whole fighting the Germans business, having been a replacement since their last medic took a bullet in the heart in Normandy. George had been in this war longer than Rogers and he knew what the enemy was like and he knew what some of his squad members were like. Burkinshaw would probably want to go out with a bang rather than with a whimper, hence the suggestion to let him have his own last stand against the Germans.

"Tomorrow morning we're going to leave in order to help our chaps out on the bridge," George said, "we can't be slowed down by anyone who's too badly wounded. I don't think Burkinshaw will want to spend the rest of the war in a German field hospital…"

"I'll make sure to ask him about that first, sir," Rogers said, having calmed back down after his brief overreaction.

"Make sure you do," George said. He paused for a moment, thinking of what else he could ask about.

"What of Perkins?" He asked, referring to the other wounded man they had down in the cellar who hadn't yet succumbed to his wounds, "How's he holding up?"

"Fine," Rogers replied, providing an answer that George wasn't quite expecting, "he only took the one round in the arm, so he can still walk. He should be alright to fight by morning, though."

George nodded approvingly, pleased to hear some good news for once. Perkins was a reliable squad member and it was good to hear that he would survive his injuries, unlike Burkinshaw.

"You're a good medic, Rogers," George said, slapping Rogers on the left arm in a gentle and comradely manner, "I wouldn't want anybody else looking after my wounded men." He then glanced at his watch which he had set for local time prior to arrival, seeing that it was almost midnight. It certainly didn't feel like midnight, nor could George figure out how time had slipped by him so quickly. He guessed that's what war did: it provided a great enough distraction that time tended to fly-by without notice.

"You should try and get some sleep, lad," George said, "I know it's hard to with all this noise, but at least try to. I have…for the last six hours or so, until I got caught up with watching the fighting outside."

As he said this, the Germans across the river sent up another few flares, the red beacons of light leaving bright smoking trails behind them. Bright yellow-orange light flickered across the tops of the ruined buildings and the bridge itself, revealing the smoking husks of about twenty-five destroyed vehicles, victims of a massive firefight the day before. The bodies of dead Brits and Germans littered the bridge, a pair of British paratroopers running across the road as they sought cover from the light of the flares.

The flares slowly descended, their lights dying gradually. It was atmospheric, watching these bright sudden pinpoints of light appear and illuminate the devastated streets and buildings of Arnhem. Tracer fire zoomed across the river as positions were exposed and opposing forces exchanged fire, barely changing much save for blasting a few bullet holes in the opposing side's defences. It was a futile battle at least, the Germans having taken a break from launching themselves again and again at the British defences for tonight. They had tried to break through the British defences many times in the past few days and the fighting had been quite intense as a result, with the Brits managing to holdout against the hordes of Panzergrenadiers that charged against them. Now it seemed that the fighting had entered a more modest phase, with the Germans keeping back as they planned their next approach. They were probably unaware of how weakened the beleaguered British paratroopers in the city had become after the constant fighting.

A peculiar sound became audible amongst the backdrop of weapons fire and explosions, one that George was slightly perplexed about. It sounded like a cross between a tank engine and an electronic crackling, much like the static one received over a bad radio signal.

Rogers didn't seem to notice it though, simply nodding response to what George was saying.

"I can't sleep, sir," the medic said, shaking his head, "I've got blood all over me, for one thing. And none of it's even mine…"

George was barely listening now, perhaps a bit of a rude act towards the young medic but justified since the Major had now become focused on the sound he could hear, coming from somewhere outside. It seemed to be nearby but not close enough to be perfectly audible over the sounds of the sporadic fighting that was taking place in other parts of the city. A shell hit the road outside, sending dirt and pieces of stone flying up in a big cloud. The ground shook briefly underfoot from the shockwave of the explosion but still George concentrated on the ever-increasing volume of the sound coming from somewhere further down the street.

"There's just too much damn noise, Major," Rogers continued, "How is someone supposed to sleep when things are exploding all the time?"

George looked at him, noticing that Rogers hadn't seemed to have noticed the suspicious noise. The Major found himself reaching for his Sten as a precaution, thinking that a German tank was on its way. If so, he would probably be better off readying the PIAT anti-tank weapon that was leaning against the wall nearby.

"Just think of home, lad, it helps," George said absent-mindedly, his hand leaving his Sten. He turned his attention to the PIAT by the wall, looking at the long and heavy weapon and thinking he would need some help to set it up. Rogers seemed to take note of the change in the Major's attention, looking outside as a look of worry crossed his features.

"What is it, sir?" Rogers asked, stepping closer to the window. He paused, hearing the sound as it steadily increased in volume.

"It's a Gerry tank, no doubt," George said, picking up the PIAT and resting its end on the sill of the open window. Chances are the tank had no indication of their presence inside the house but readying the PIAT was a precaution, one that George had no problem in taking.

Slowly he picked up one of the last few PIAT rounds lying on the floor nearby and carefully loaded it into the weapon. Once it was loaded and the weapon was cocked and ready to fire George peered down the sight, turning to face down the street, where he thought the noise was coming from.

That's when he saw the blue-white flash up ahead, a sight the perplexed him. There was a ground-shattering explosion and the church further down the road disintegrated, enveloped by a brilliant blue light that hurt George's eyes. He let go of the PIAT and let it clatter to the floor, his heart racing as his eyes recovered. The ground shook violently beneath them, more so than any artillery explosion could have done. The mirror near the bed shattered into a thousand pieces while Rogers had to steady himself on the chair by the window.

George looked back down towards the street, taking note of the shimmering blue light that seemed to be rippling across the edges of a massive crater. This massive crater was now in place of the church he had seen blow up only seconds before, whatever having caused the explosion having gone as quickly as it had arrived.

"What the hell was that?" Rogers exclaimed, looking around. Ekholm, Davies and Donaldson were up and had gone for their rifles, becoming alert as the threat of a possible enemy attack became very real.

George looked around, trying to see if everyone else was alright. They all certainly seemed to be and with this in mind he turned his attention back out the open window, taking note of how the fighting at the bridge was going on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Whatever had caused that explosion deserved to be investigated. George figured that they were safe enough in this particular street seeing that no Germans had stumbled upon them since their arrival in this house earlier in the day.

"We're going to check out that crater down the street," George said, rising back onto his feet. He picked up his Sten and checked the magazine, making sure that it was fully loaded. He had only a few spares, not nearly enough to get him through another firefight.

"Must have been a plane that dropped that bomb," Rogers said, "no artillery I know of can make an explosion that impressive…"

George looked up, unable to make out any aircraft against the overcast night sky. If there had been a plane it was gone now, although it seemed odd that he hadn't heard it coming. Even above the noise of the fighting in the city a plane's engine should be able to be made out, especially from a German Stuka dive bomber. They always made a high-pitched whine as they came in to drop their payloads, a noise that was enough to strike terror into anyone in the path of that payload.

Across the street there was a rumble and a wall collapsed forwards, the shape of a German Panzer tank becoming visible as it simply drove through the remains of a house. Another few flares shot up from the German positions across the river, providing illumination of the street outside and the large rumbling tank with the grey paintjob, bearing the black cross of the German Army. George was the first to see the tank coming and immediately he went for the PIAT, realizing that they were very likely in trouble.

Several SS Panzergrenadiers, armed with rifles and submachine guns, came racing from behind the slowly moving tank. The bright yellow light that had descended upon the street from the flares above sent light down into Rogers' and George's faces, making them momentarily visible to the soldiers outside. One of the Germans shouted and immediately rifles and submachine guns barked.

George was barely aware of Rogers' falling behind him, blood spraying out of a hole that had been blown into his throat. Instead, George ducked and started shouting at Ekholm and the others to get out of the building while he readied the PIAT, leaning over the window sill and taking aim at the Panzer tank below.

Whatever had caused the tremendous explosion nearby could wait. Right now, George and his squad had much more pressing matters, such as fighting off the enemy squad and tank that had stumbled upon their hideaway. George was forced to duck back down as bullets slammed into the wall around the window while some shot past him. The Panzer tank had stopped across the street, slowly raising its turret in order to blow away the building.

* * *

There was a blinding white flash and the next thing Deadeye was aware of was a burning sensation right across his body, as well as the fact that he had gone blind. He shouted, writhing about in the dirt and rock where he lay, trying to shake off the excruciating burning pain that seemed to be eating away at his whole form.

It ceased suddenly, the pain leaving him. Deadeye was left lying on his back, his sensors able to detect noticeable changes in the atmosphere and the weather conditions. No longer were there any high amounts of radiation, nor was there thick smoke and ash. Instead, the air was clean, consisting of a nitrogen-oxygen mix that seemed best suited for organic life. Radiation levels were quite low, implying that he was nowhere near Cybertron anymore.

Sitting up, the young Autobot's vision returned. He looked around, finding that he was lying near the centre of a large crater that was surrounded by the smouldering frames of stone and wooden buildings. It was night and the sky above was overcast, a few bright red smoking pinpoints of light ascending quickly, casting flickering bright glows across the entire area.

He stood up quickly, finding that he was still clutching his sidearm in his right hand. He could remember where he had been prior to the blinding white flash, realizing that something had gone very wrong indeed. He could remember being with his father and the one called Ironhide, the three of them having confronted the Decepticon war criminal Centurion. Centurion had been operating some sort of energy based machine, one that had…

Teleported them both? It seemed likely, since this place resembled nothing like Cybertron. In fact, the architecture nearby implied that whoever had built these structures was fairly small and primitive, almost as if insects had built them.

Deadeye realized that if he was here then Centurion would be as well, perhaps even Optimus and Ironhide. He looked around but could find no sign of any of them: instead, he could hear what sounded like weapons fire and explosions. Above the primitive flares began to descend, still casting their eerie glows across the devastated and primitive city the young Autobot had inadvertently found himself in. The weapons fire and explosions implied that he had been teleported right into the middle of some sort of conflict, a fact made even more certain when he heard a high-pitched whine that only grew in volume before the object causing it slammed into the ground near him.

The force of the explosion knocked him to the ground but otherwise he was unharmed. Only slightly confused he stood up, still trying to determine where he had found himself. There was no hint of Optimus or Ironhide, or even Centurion being nearby. However, a quick sweep with his sensors detected that the strange energy that Centurion had been using was still in small trace amounts in side the crater and that there seemed to be a "trail" of it leaving out of one side of the crater. Perhaps Centurion had already left, leaving a trail for him to follow? Whatever had caused it, Deadeye knew he would have to follow it if he was going to find any answers.

The thought occurred to him that maybe he would never see his father or any of the other Autobots again…He quickly quelled this thought, determined that he would go out and seek the answers he wanted, confident that they would get him back home. Maybe coming along with his father in apprehending a Decepticon war criminal hadn't been such a good idea…then again, he had been adamant in his stance on actually going on the mission in the first place.

_Enough moping around,_ he told himself, _there's a trail for me to follow. I can't be the only one here, anyway._

Deadeye, with his weapon clutched tightly in his right hand, went to step out of the crater only for a distinct engine sound to catch his attention. He turned around, watching as an armoured and four wheeled vehicle came from around a pile of rubble, stopping by the other end of the crater. The turret on top slowly swivelled around to point towards him, Deadeye aware of what could come next.

A quick scan indicated that there were four bipedal life-forms inside, organic in nature. He had heard of organic life but had never actually seen any. It appeared that the organic life in this devastated city had a somewhat primitive level of technology, evident in the self-combustion engine that the vehicle ahead was using. There was no energon in sight.

A hatch opened on top of the armoured car and a peculiar looking creature in a grey-black set of close-fitting fabric clothing popped out, looking towards the Autobot with a look of utter terror. Deadeye realized he must look completely alien towards these peculiar organic creatures, a fact that he was willing to rectify by approaching them with peace in mind.

He would have done that if the narrow turret hadn't started firing, high-powered shells slamming into his front while the organic creature that he taken a look out of the hatch descended back into the vehicle. Each shell stung him painfully and caused him to stumble backwards as he strained against the force of the continuing shots. Deadeye shook his head, trying to shake off his initial surprise as he brought up his sidearm and returned fire.

It only took a few shots from his cannon to punch a hole into the armoured car, setting it alight. The hatch on top opened again and the four organic creatures inside, all dressed in matching outfits, climbed out and began to frantically run away. Annoyed at their aggressive actions Deadeye simply blasted them all away with relative ease. When they all lay dead he glanced down at his chest, taking note of the few painful scorch marks and dents that had been left by the primitive turret.

It occurred to Deadeye that it was possible for him to take a complete scan of the damaged vehicle: for one, he could learn more about the technology he was facing. For another, it would make the perfect disguise: he was a stranger in a strange land, after all. A disguise would be an excellent asset.


	3. Encounter in Arnhem

**Encounter in Arnhem  
**Arnhem, Holland  
September 19th, 1944

Bullets slammed into the walls near the window, blasting chunks of brick and mortar away whilst sending clouds of dust flying outwards. George had ducked below the window, a PIAT anti-tank weapon clutched in his hands as he struggled to get a clear shot at the German Panzer tank outside. The enemy tank was already adjusting its main gun in order to fire; this was something he knew wouldn't be very good for his health if he stayed here when that happened.

His heart-rate was racing wildly by now, as it always did when he was in a potentially dangerous situation such as this one. He looked behind at the rest of the second-storey bedroom, seeing that Corporal Davies, Private Ekholm and Private Donaldson were already up and running out of the room. Outside, several German SS Panzergrenadiers had taken up positions behind cover and were opening fire on the front of the building, peppering the walls with rounds.

This skirmish was just another one of many that were happening throughout the city and thus no help would come for the beleaguered British paratroopers. Reinforcements were never going to come, the XXX Armour Corps held up at Nijmegen which was miles behind Arnhem. They were miles behind schedule to say the least but still the British paratroopers held onto the bridge for as long as they could while the Germans continued to throw wave after wave of elite soldiers their way.

Now, after having more or less had some rest for about six hours since finding the mostly intact house, the Germans had discovered George and his squad. Understandably they were doing all they could to eliminate the British squad, tactics including a flanking manoeuvre that the Major could see the Panzergrenadiers outside setting up. They were going to come from all sides, effectively trapping the British paratroopers inside the house so the Panzer tank could simply blast it away.

George was determined to not let that happen. With some effort he heaved the PIAT onto the window sill just as another flare went up nearby, casting a flickering yellow glow upon the street. Below the street seemed to flicker in and out of existence, an eerie occurrence that only added to the fear that was threatening to paralyse the battle-hardened paratrooper. Even after all the fighting he had seen, he still felt the same sort of fear he had in every other battle he had been in. There was always the threat of a quick, sudden death or a slow painful one depending on what finally got you. Getting blown to pieces by a German tank hadn't been how he had envisioned on dying so he wasn't about to let it happen to him. He still had a war to fight, even if the situation here in Arnhem was a bit hopeless.

George took aim down the sight of the PIAT anti-tank weapon, taking quick but careful aim at the Panzer tank across the street. He ignored the bullets that hammered into the walls near him, instead keeping his concentration solely on the tank.

Pulling the weapon's trigger the PIAT recoiled, the heavy pull-back hitting him in the shoulder painfully but otherwise he was unharmed. The round that fired from the PIAT slammed into the top part of the tank, detonating with a dull _thud!_ The tank seemed to remain motionless for a few seconds before something inside exploded, flames shooting up out of the back of the tank as fuel ignited. The hatch on top opened and a dazed looking German tank commander climbed out, falling off of the tank in his confused state. Two more members of the tank crew climbed out, seconds before the top part of the tank exploded in a ball of flame, sending red-hot pieces of metal flying from the centre of the blast.

Dropping the PIAT, George took up his Sten submachine gun from the floor nearby and started running for the doorway. Halfway there he heard something clatter onto the floor behind him and a single glance revealed that a German stick grenade had been thrown through the window, landing on the rug in the middle of the bedroom. Without much thought George dived onto the floor, awaiting the inevitable detonation.

The explosion shook the floor beneath him and blasted a chunk out of the ceiling, fragments of wood and masonry falling upon him. Something hit the floor close to his head and looking up he could see a razor sharp piece of shrapnel had embedded itself there, only inches from his ear.

His ears ringing, George rose onto his feet, his senses only partially knocked about. He started towards the door, stepping out into the corridor as the sounds of weapons fire filtered up from downstairs.

He turned left and started towards the stairs, catching a glimpse of movement on the stairs themselves. He stopped, Sten submachine gun raised as he kept watching.

All of a sudden a German Panzergrenadier, dressed in the camouflage uniform common to this type of soldier in the German military, came racing up the stairs. George made sure the German didn't have a chance to react to his presence, pulling the trigger on his Sten. The weapon shook his grip as it fired but he managed to spray rounds right across the German, making the young enemy soldier spin slightly as clouds of blood erupted from where the bullets impacted. The German tumbled down the stairs, most likely dead from the ten or so bullets stuck in him.

George didn't give the enemy soldier another moment's thought, deciding to keep his concentration on getting out of the area alive. He started down the stairs, stepping over the dead Panzergrenadier's corpse and onto the ground floor of the house.

The Major kept his Sten submachine gun held at the ready as he slowly made his way to the rear entrance of the house. Outside he could hear gunfire and shouting, all too familiar sounds to him. He stopped by the rear door, taking the chance to catch his breath after what had just happened. He was somewhat pleased with himself, seeing that he had single-handedly taken down a Panzer tank. George had gotten accustomed to killing enemy soldiers, no longer at all affected by having their deaths on his conscience. It came with being a soldier and it was more or less necessary to ensure one was hardened to the horrors they would face in war.

At the other side of the house the front door smashed open and a pair of German Panzergrenadiers charged inside, both armed with StG44 automatic rifles. George quickly opened the rear door near him and backed outside, firing his Sten in the general direction of the two enemy soldiers. One of them twirled slightly and fell, bleeding from several holes that had been blown into his chest. The other went for cover in an adjoining room whilst managing to fire a few rounds in his direction, the bullets blowing chunks out of the wall to the Major's left.

George stepped outside into the cool night air, his booted feet crunching upon the rubble that littered the ground. He took out a Mills grenade, these being the standard-issue grenades to most British paratroopers like him. Pulling out the pin he threw it back into the house, slamming the rear door shut once it had arced inside.

He turned around and barely noticed as part of the house exploded outwards as a result of the grenade. Instead he carefully took in his surroundings, those of which included the bombed-out hulks of once proud Dutch houses and the fact that one end of the rubble-strewn streets was blocked by the X-shaped tank obstacles and lengths of barbed wire.

He looked for any sign of his squad as he started down the street, thinking that the mysterious explosion that had occurred earlier could be investigated when he wasn't busy trying to stay alive.

Nearby, he could hear shouts and weapons fire. A pair of German Panzergrenadiers came into view up ahead, running from a narrow alley that ran alongside one of the houses. George immediately crouched, moving behind a pile of rubble as he watched both soldiers run into the street.

His attention was caught by another flare as it drifted up high above the buildings, casting the now familiar flickering yellow glow upon the devastated streets. George ducked, realizing that he was more or less exposed in the light of the flare, hoping that none of the Germans up ahead had spotted him.

Suddenly there were several cracks of rifle fire that echoed throughout the street, George watching as both German soldiers were cut down where they had been running. Out of cover came a few familiar figures that George was quite grateful for encountering: the rest of his squad, all five of them.

He stood up and slowly approached them, waving at them to get their attention. Ekholm was the first to see him approach, waving at him in response and alerting the others that the Major was coming.

The group stayed low amongst the rubble as the glow of the last flare died out, the sounds of Germans shouting coming from nearby. The enemy was obviously searching for them, a task that wouldn't be too difficult since they had the superior numbers and were constantly sending up flares in order to illuminate the darkened streets.

"We're in a tight spot now, sir," Ekholm said, clutching his Lee Enfield rifle close to his chest, "there's Germans all over the place…We have our work cut out for us if we're going to actually get out of here…"

George looked at each of the five other squad members in turn. He could tell that they were all tired, tired both physically and mentally. They had been fighting almost non-stop for days and had been subject to constant shelling and enemy attacks. It was about time they got some rest and they had been in the process of doing so before the Germans discovered them hiding in the house.

Now they were all stuck outside in the devastated streets of Arnhem with fighting taking place all throughout the city, with shells falling all around and German soldiers searching the streets in order to eradicate the gradually dwindling British resistance. It was a next to hopeless situation, one that George reckoned that next to none of them would get out of in one piece.

Since they were outside George figured that they could investigate the site of the mysterious explosion that had occurred earlier. It was risky since the Germans probably would have noticed it as well and may already be at its site but George simply wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. Whatever had caused that explosion hadn't been anything he had seen before and it certainly hadn't come from a plane: the skies had been relatively clear since the paratrooper's arrival in the country. The once powerful German Luftwaffe (air force) had been considerably weakened during the last few years of the war and were definitely not as good as they used to be. Hence, the German air force had done little in the battle for Arnhem.

George decided that they had spent long enough in the one place: if there was one thing he had learnt from his experience in past battles it was that standing still wasn't too wise a move.

"Get up lads," George ordered, judging from the expressions the five younger men gave him that they weren't too pleased with this order, "otherwise the Gerries will be crawling all over us if we don't get moving."

The squad got up and George started down the street, stepping over the rubble that littered the road as they passed by shelled-out houses and storefronts. He would take them to the crater, if only to satisfy his curiosity. He knew it would be dangerous but then again this whole city had become dangerous, German soldiers waiting around nearly every corner. As a result the squad moved slowly and cautiously, trying to keep alert despite their near exhausted physical states.

Light came from the moon above which was only just showing through the dark clouds overhead. Not only that but the fires burning nearby provided some light as well, although the most notable source came from the flares that the Germans would send up every few minutes. One of them was ascending above the rooftops now, illuminating the whole street.

Ahead George could see where the mysterious explosion had occurred, having completely destroyed a church and a few nearby buildings. It hadn't seemed so big when it had occurred but looking at the crater left by it made him realize just how tremendous it had been. The air was still hot from the sheer heat of the explosion while the road beneath was cracked and broken.

George stopped, hearing something that he knew couldn't be good news. There was the sound of fast, running-paced footsteps nearby and the Major turned around to face a nearby alley. A trio of German Panzergrenadiers were racing towards them, weapons raised. Immediately George went prone as he raised his Sten, the others in his squad either ding the same or running for cover behind the nearby piles of rubble.

The German soldiers opened fire and a few rounds pounded into the ground near the Major but he barely flinched, instead concentrating on aiming his Sten. He pulled the submachine gun's trigger and kept it held down as he sprayed the fire across the three Germans, cutting them down. Suddenly his Sten's magazine clicked on empty and so George casually reloaded, discarding the empty magazine before loading a new one into its place.

The Major's five squad-mates relaxed when they saw the threat was gone, Ekholm and Davies throwing the grizzled Major a few sidewards glances. George looked thoughtful for a moment, as if contemplating on the three lives he had just taken.

Eventually he stood up, lowering his Sten as the rest of his squad regrouped near him. He looked further down the street, seeing that they were closing in on the large crater. Without further thought to the brief firefight, George started back on his way to the crater while his squad followed in pursuit.

He realized that he had finally reached that point in his military career where killing someone no longer affected him at all. He barely gave anyone he shot a moment's thought anymore and when he did he was usually contemplating what he should do next, as well as looking for anymore enemies. No wonder his squad members were looking at him strange: he had become an emotionless killer.

_Oh well,_ he thought, _it was bound to happen sooner or later._ He decided that such thoughts were probably best left to a time when he wasn't in so much danger, with the threat of getting shot by a sniper or blown to smithereens by a shell wasn't so prominent.

An artillery shell slammed into a house off to their left, blowing a large chunk out of its front and raining down dust and chunks of brickwork onto the street below. Ekholm and the others stumbled with surprise but the Major kept walking, having gotten accustomed to such occurrences years ago. Another shell slammed into the road up ahead, shaking the ground beneath his feet momentarily. He stepped on through the cloud of smoke that followed the explosion, leaving his squad several paces behind him.

It occurred to him that maybe the German artillery was zeroing in on them, a speculation that was supported even more when a shell landed a few metres from the Major. Ducking instinctively he received a mouthful of dust and smoke, a few pieces of shrapnel pinging on the ground near him. He stood up when the explosion was over, managing a glance at his squad and seeing that they were starting to keep up with him.

George arrived at the edge of the crater a few paces later, looking into the blackened hole that had been blown into a block of formerly quaint little Dutch houses and a church. There wasn't much left of the buildings that had been caught in the tremendous explosion, although there seemed to be a distinctive "end" to the destruction caused. The buildings at the edge of the crater appeared to have been "cut" off where the explosion ended, as if the explosion itself had been controlled and had had a certain shape to it.

He approached the remains of a scorched and battered couch lying by the side of the crater, able to see that it had been burnt away at one end to form an almost perfectly smooth cut. It was strange, to say the least, that an explosion could simply eat away at a certain area like that as if it was being controlled. He knew as well as anyone else in this war that explosions were unpredictable when they occurred, capable of doing all sorts of damage depending on their strength and what had caused them. They were not capable of eating away a certain area whilst leaving anything intact; that was for sure.

"What the hell happened here?" Corporal Davies stepped forwards, looking around at the scene of destruction with a perplexed look on his face. Unfortunately, no one had a solid answer to that question since they were all trying to figure it out themselves.

George looked into the crater, noticing that there didn't seem to be anything inside it saves for black ash. He bent down by the edge he was standing near, taking note of how the very edges of the crater were shimmering a strange blue-white. It was subtle and hard to notice at first but when he took a closer look he was not mistaken: there was a glow on the edges of the crater, as if whatever had caused it wasn't quite finished yet.

He put his fingers to the glowing blue edge, only to pull them back in pain as they burnt his fingers. He swore quietly under his breath, taking a look at his singed fingers. The burn wasn't serious but it was enough of a hint that the shiny blue stuff on the edges of the crater was damned hot.

"What is it, sir?" Ekholm asked, stepping forwards. An artillery shell landed several metres away at the base of a nearby building; this momentarily grabbed his attention but otherwise he kept it on the Major and the mysterious crater.

"I don't know," George replied bluntly, standing up. He looked into the crater, still trying to determine what could have possibly caused such damage.

Above, another flare went up and cast a bright illumination down onto the crater. This made it a lot easier to make out the damage that had been caused, the blue-white flames close to the centre of the crater getting the Major's attention. Without any hesitation he stepped down into the black ash, his squad following uncertainly. The ash was thick and soft underfoot, implying that there was a lot of it.

George managed to keep his footing as he headed to the centre of the crater, taking note of the set of what appeared to be large footprints that had been left behind in the ash. At the other end of the crater sat the flaming wreck of a German armoured scout car, the light from the flare above making the large hole that had been punched through its armour on one side clearly visible. Nothing George knew of could have caused damage to an armoured car like that, furthering the uneasy feeling he was getting.

The small set of blue flames near the centre of the crater seemed to be dying. George stopped near them, taking a fairly good look at them as they slowly shrank in size before dissipating entirely. What could possibly cause flames like that? He had no idea and was somewhat intrigued by all of what they had found. Even though they had simply found a smoking black crater, it was by far the most intriguing crater he had ever come across.

The footprints were another matter though: they appeared to have been caused by a creature with right-angled toes, three in total that had left rather solid imprints in the ash on the floor of the crater. George couldn't recall ever having heard of creatures that left such footprints and the thought that he had stumbled upon some sort of new German weapon or vehicle crossed his mind. He had heard that the Germans were always researching advancements in their weaponry: perhaps they had decided to test some sort of new weapon here? If so, why had one of their own vehicles been left destroyed nearby? And what strategic value did this particular part of the city have anyway? He couldn't recall there being any fellow paratroopers here when the explosion had occurred…

Unless he and his squad had stumbled upon something more than just a weapons test. The Major, despite all that he had been through in this war, was suddenly feeling uneasy when faced with the thought of facing some sort of unknown enemy. He composed himself though, knowing that he was probably the only thing to a role model his squad members had. They didn't need to know that he was starting to get a bit freaked out: he was going to keep a stiff upper lip and the composure to go with it, regardless of what happened.

"Footprints, sir," Ekholm said, approaching where the footprints started and using his eyes to follow them up and out of the crater, "they head further into the city. They don't look like any footprints I've seen before…"

"What caused this, Major?" Private Donaldson looked worried, as if thinking that whatever had done this was still around. It probably was; whatever "it" actually was.

George shook his head, partly because he had no idea what they were facing and partly because he didn't know the answer to the Private's question.

"Do you think we should follow these footprints, sir?" Ekholm asked, before adding, "I sure as hell want to find out what caused this. I think it would be in our best interests to find out…"

"Are you joking?" Davies sounded surprised at the suggestion, shooting Ekholm an aghast expression, "I don't think it's any of our business what happened here. I mean, if this is some kind of new German weapon…Then there's no stopping it if they decide to use it against us. We'll be reduced to…ash…" He kicked the ash near his foot for added emphasis, although Ekholm didn't seem convinced.

"If it's a new German weapon then we should destroy it," Ekholm said, "otherwise the Gerries will start using it on all of our guys…We can't them do that."

"I agree with Ekholm," Donaldson interjected, stepping into the conversation, "if it's a new German weapon we should find it and get rid of it. Maybe we'll get a medal…"

"A medal ain't any good if you're dead," Private Perkins, with one arm partially bandaged due to a bullet wound from earlier in the day, stepped forward to have his say. "I mean, look around you: we're stuck in hostile territory against superior enemy forces. We may as well surrender now, before the Germans get fed up with us and simply shoot us all."

George had the feeling that an argument amongst all of his squad members was about to begin. Usually he would let it slide, preferring to not get involved but this time he knew that their eventual decision could change the outcome of this battle. If it was indeed some sort of new German weapon then it was their obligation to find it and destroy it, thus putting their enemy at a distinct disadvantage.

"We can't afford to let the Germans keep this new weapon," Private Leland, the quite one of the group, finally said something much to everyone else's surprise. Leland seemed quite adamant in his viewpoint on the matter though and so continued speaking when he saw that everyone was focused on him.

"Isn't it our obligation to fight the enemy and put them at a disadvantage?" Leland asked, "Because if that's the case then getting rid of this new weapon is our responsibility. We're the only ones aside from the Germans who know of its existence so we should do something about it. Otherwise this new weapon will probably be responsible for killing quite a number of our own men…"

George finally spoke after having let his squad argue the matter, figuring that he should interrupt now before a full-fledged fight broke out. They had unwittingly stumbled upon something that implied that the Germans may be deploying a new weapon, one that left…large footprints. As stupid as it sounded, George knew he had to consider all of the possibilities. A walking German weapon that was capable of incinerating large areas and devastating buildings did seem a little far-fetched but his squad had accepted the fact that it existed. Some were willing to try and destroy it while others were more willing to save themselves rather than get involved.

Why shouldn't they get involved? They had volunteered to fight in this war against an enemy that threatened the very freedom of Europe. Sure, the current situation here in Arnhem seemed rather hopeless but it was their responsibility to fight the enemy and ensure that they were kept at a disadvantage.

"Lads, stop bickering and listen to me," George said whilst ignoring the artillery shell that exploded nearby and kicked up a cloud of black ash. He paused for a moment before continuing. "We're soldiers: we're trained to fight the enemy, not run away. I know we're in a tough spot, here in this city, but it's our job to give the Gerries a damn good thrashing and that's what I intend on doing!

"Whatever caused that explosion and made this crater is something we've never encountered before. Whatever it is, it can't be good so in response to it we're going to track it down and blow it up! How's that sound, lads?"

There were some stifled groans from a few members of the group while others nodded in absolute agreement to what the Major had been saying. He paused for a moment, satisfied with the effect his speech was having despite the fact that shells were landing awfully close to the crater. One hit the ground a few metres to the Major's left, inclining him to duck. The smoke cleared and George stood up again, barely batting an eyelid as another shell landed near the edge of the crater closest to them.

"We'll make it through this," he said sternly and somewhat confidently, "I'm sure of it."

He went to start out of the crater when something landed to his right, its small metal shape glinting in the light of the nearby raging fires. It took him a few seconds to realize what it was and immediately he had hit the ground, bracing for the inevitable.

"Grenade!" One of the others managed to shout this before the aforementioned grenade detonated, the explosion deafening George momentarily as it sent dirt and ash flying up and raining upon him. Both Davies and Leland were tossed aside by the explosion, a severed arm landing a few inches from George's head.

George looked up, trying to determine just who the arm belonged to. He recognized Davies' watch which was on around the wrist, figuring that the Corporal had seen the last of his use for such an item. Rising to his feet, George brought up his Sten and looked around, seeing that Ekholm, Donaldson and Perkins were already running for the edge of the crater. Up ahead, several German soldiers came into view as they scattered and went for cover near the destroyed armoured car. George opened fire on their positions, sending most of the Germans behind cover. It was only a few seconds before George had emptied his submachine gun's magazine, the Major dropping the weapon as he went for his Browning Hi-Power pistol.

To his right the three remaining squad members were heading up and out of the crater, only for several more German soldiers to appear at the edge. These German Panzergrenadiers opened fire with their automatic rifles and submachine guns, mowing down the remains of George's squad much to his absolute horror. The Major shouted angrily and started shooting at these newly arrived Germans, gunning two down as he started to run for the nearest edge of the crater.

His whole squad was now lying dead, a fact that angered the Major to an extent that made him want to kill each and every one of the Germans responsible for their deaths. However, he knew that his chances of survival were suddenly quite low seeing that he was alone against about two dozen elite enemy soldiers.

The crater had made the perfect location for an ambush, this much was obvious. George tried to quell all the self-blaming thoughts that raced into his mind as he started to climb out of the crater, telling himself that those young men he had just seen die weren't dead because of him. He refused to blame himself for their deaths, knowing that such thoughts could lead to a depressed state of mind: he needed his mind to be crystal clear if he was going to survive this.

He managed to step up and out of the crater, ignoring the bullets that pounded into the ground near him and zipped right past him. However, a sudden sharp stinging pain in his left arm momentarily stopped him in his tracks, causing him to almost fall over. He used his right hand which was still clutching his sidearm to hold his now bleeding left arm, the pain causing him to grit his teeth.

He barged his way through the bombed-out frame of a nearby house, ignoring the sounds of weapons fire coming from behind. He could hear the German soldiers shouting, some running in pursuit of him. He managed a glance behind, seeing a pair sprinting in his wake. Without taking careful aim the wounded Major raised his pistol and took pot-shots at the pair of pursuing Germans, watching as one of them fell when a bullet hit them in the throat. The other kept running, following the exhausted Major through a narrow alley and right into a garden courtyard.

This garden courtyard was nestled amongst a few houses and was mostly intact save for a few small craters caused by stray artillery shells. George went charging right over a short stone wall, landing amongst a flower bed as another German flare went flying up high above the buildings.

Lying still for a moment, George gathered his senses and stood up, turning around with his sidearm raised as a trio of Germans ran into the courtyard from the way he had come. He started shooting, able to feel that his strength was gradually leaving him. With each shot he felt weaker and weaker, as if the bullets he fired took a bit of his strength with him.

One of the Germans fell but another two arrived, as if to take the dead one's place. However, George became aware of the sound of an engine coming from somewhere behind him: he turned around and watched as a German armoured car entered the courtyard from an alley at the other side.

George finally fell onto his knees, exhausted and out of ammunition. The Germans up ahead were firing at him, bullets pounding into the stone wall that George was kneeling behind. He took a deep breath, throwing aside his empty pistol while thinking of what he could possibly do. He couldn't go on like this, not for much longer.

He collapsed against the wall, exhausted and overcome. He awaited the inevitable arrival of the pursuing Germans but it didn't come. Instead, the armoured car behind him stopped in its tracks and remained stationary for a moment, as if the crew was watching the situation unfold. However, just as George was about to wave at it to invite it to fire at him the whole shape of the armoured car changed. It all happened in the space of a few seconds, the armoured car seeming to fold out of itself, constructing itself into a twenty-five-foot tall biped…

And that was when George fainted. He was exhausted and spent, both physically and mentally. The fact that he had just witnessed an armoured car change shape didn't help either. Finally he embraced sleep and realized that for the first time in five days he would be able to get a proper night's rest.


	4. An Autobot in Arnhem

**An Autobot in Arnhem**  
Arnhem, Holland  
September 20th, 1944

The sun was low in the sky but was gradually rising, the day only just having begun. The overcast clouds had begun to part, revealing the orange sky of dawn above. The city of Arnhem had fallen quiet for this particular morning, as if either side had decided to take a break in the fighting for a few hours. As a result the whole area seemed dead quiet save for the call of a bird and the occasional buzz of an airplane's engine as they flew overhead.

It was mornings like this that made the Dutch countryside seem so peaceful. In a field just on the outside of the town a lone German armoured car sat parked by a wall, forgotten by the opposing armies that were fighting within the nearby streets. A few craters littered the damp field, the results of stray artillery shells. A pair of German soldiers milled by casually, on their way into the city. They paid no attention to the parked armoured car, figuring that it was just another one of the many vehicles that was here to back up the division of elite German SS Panzergrenadiers that were fighting the British in the city.

Of course, both German soldiers were mistaken. The armoured car was far from being on anyone's side in this conflict and was itself empty of a crew. Usually such an armoured car would have a crew of three or four but this particular armoured car had no crew. It didn't need one since it was more than capable of driving itself.

Since his arrival in this strange and war-torn place, Deadeye had taken it upon himself to try and work out what was going on. He knew he was no longer on Cybertron anymore, a fact made obvious by the mostly clean atmosphere and low levels of radiation. There were no lava pits or ragged cliff-faces: rather, there were rolling plains and healthy rivers. However, it seems that the young Autobot had inadvertently stumbled into a war being fought amongst this race of bipedal organic creatures and that these creatures were yet to reach a level of technology similar to that of the Autobots.

As a result, Deadeye knew that he would be sought out as a potential threat and an asset. His sheer arrival on this world should never have occurred and that feeling of being "out of place" was all the more prevalent. There were no others like him here, at least none that he knew of. He could still detect trace elements of the strange energy that had teleported him here in the first place, some of which seemed to be emanating off of him. Whatever it was it had the potential to be quite destructive: his sheer arrival had taken out a whole block of primitive dwellings.

Deadeye knew that until he had some answers to why he was here and whether or not he was alone he would have to lay low. Hence, he had scanned and taken the liking of the primitive vehicle he had encountered soon after his arrival, changing into its form in order to get around without receiving unwanted attention. So far it had been successful, save for one recent encounter which he had decided to take advantage of in order to get answers.

For the last few hours he had remained in his spot as the armoured vehicle, searching all frequencies for any hint of some sort of network he could access. He didn't find anything like that, instead coming across the primitive radio signals that the organics here were using to communicate with each other over long distances. He ran their language through his systems numerous times, attempting to learn it as quickly as he could. He knew he would have to be quick since the one organic he had "captured" would probably wake up soon and Deadeye needed to be prepared when that happened.

Deadeye needed answers and figured he would start with the basics, such as what planet he was on. It certainly didn't look like anything he had heard of, but he did remember his father telling him of a world that matched the descriptions his father had given that may have been the location of the All-spark. If Centurion had somehow created some sort of long distance teleportation technology that had somehow teleported the young Autobot here, it would make sense that Centurion was around here as well. Deadeye's scanners had detected trace amounts of the mysterious energy that seemed to indicate that someone else was emitting it, leaving a trail for him to follow that went further into the primitive city. However, Deadeye needed information about where he was first and so had grabbed one of the organic creatures alive.

This particular creature had been dressed differently to all the others Deadeye had encountered and seemed to have been fleeing the others when he had encountered them. Deadeye had scared off those that were after this particular organic and had in turn taken himself and the organic creature just outside of the city in order to remain undiscovered. If he had indeed stumbled into some sort of conflict he needed information about it in order to determine just who was fighting who and why.

The organic creature had been wounded but was still alive. Deadeye had done would he could to patch up the creature, laying him out on the grass nearby whilst keeping the creature hidden from the others that wandered past every now and then. It wasn't too difficult a task seeing that most of the other organic creatures were busy heading into the city to fight and seemed to assume that Deadeye, whilst in armoured car form, was one of their own vehicles.

It was a clever disguise, one that Deadeye knew he would need to keep when in the presence of the other organics. The one that he had saved, however, would need to be confronted while in complete Autobot form. All that was left now was for Deadeye to perfect his language skills, something that he was having trouble with due to the lack of signals he was receiving. The primitive radio signals only provided some of the language for him to learn but not nearly enough to be able to start a cohesive conversation.

He knew that he wasn't going to find his father or Ironhide here. They were probably both on Cybertron, trying to figure out where he had gone. Deadeye had figured that the device Centurion had activated had in turn created some sort of displacement field, the type that had teleported them both here. Deadeye had been close to the device at the time, doing his best to destroy it before he had winded up on this strange world. If Centurion was looking for something then it was probably nearby…or the teleport had taken them someplace way off target. Teleporting was often unreliable, especially over very long distances such as the one between here and Cybertron…however far that actually was.

Deadeye's sensors picked up movement from the resting organic and he quickly finished up his quick language lesson, preparing himself for the inevitable encounter. He needed information and the best source would undoubtedly be one of the locals. He only hoped he didn't scare the somewhat small creature to death.

* * *

Major George Weller opened his eyes, still able to feel a dull throb in his left arm from the bullet had had taken there. He found himself lying on the damp, grassy ground of some sort of field. These surroundings were a welcome relief from the piles of rubble and dust he had gotten used to in Arnhem but he immediately had the suspicion that someone had moved him, probably the Germans.

Had he been captured? He couldn't tell but if he had he knew he would probably spend the rest of this war in a prison camp.

Lying where he was, he was looking up at the dawn sky overhead. Clouds were gradually floating by, parting from their previously overcast state. With a vain hope he went for where his sidearm would be holstered but found it empty, remembering that he had dropped his pistol during the events of the night before.

That was when he remembered what had happened, remembering getting chased by the Germans and remembering how the rest of his already weakened squad had been killed. The thought occurred to him that he should be dead as well, having been cornered by a whole lot of German soldiers and an armoured German scout car in a courtyard. Now it seemed that he was nowhere near that courtyard, instead lying out in a field just outside the city. He sat up, managing a look at his surroundings. He appeared to be in a place where the countryside and the city of Arnhem met one another. Beyond a broken metal fence ahead was a dirt road that went straight into the city, passing a few intact houses as it went on into the more war-torn areas of the city.

With some relief George noticed that there was no one else around here save for him and, with some surprise, the armoured car he had seen last night. Why it was parked out here was anyone's guess, especially since it appeared to be devoid of the German soldiers that went with such a vehicle. In fact, George was the only person in this particular field and the fact that the armoured car was sitting nearby suspiciously unnerved him.

It suddenly occurred to him the last little thing he could remember before having passed out the night before. It was something he couldn't remember too clearly, having been exhausted both mentally and physically but what he had seen was perhaps too hard to comprehend anyway. It was probably why he had finally passed out if what he had seen was to be believed.

That armoured car…the very one parked only a few metres away from him had changed shape. He could only just remember it, from the few seconds before he had lost consciousness: the armoured car had folded out, revealing it to be nothing like a proper armoured car. There had been no crew inside, no sign of any human life. Instead, the armoured car had changed into some sort of tall, metallic figure that had stood at a height of at least seventeen feet, maybe a little more. It had had all the features of a human but hadn't been at all like one: it had had legs, arms, and a head…even eyes. Blue eyes that were more like lights than anything else.

George sat up, trying to clear these obviously crazy thought from his mind. He was going crazy; the war was finally getting to him as it had to so many others. Perhaps it was shellshock, something that he could understand since he had seen so much and been through so much. Not only had he been almost killed on several occasions but he had seen so many people die, both around him and because of him. A soldier like him was meant to be hardened to such sights but after a while even the toughest soldier could breakdown.

_I've finally gone nuts_, he replied, _I've lost my marbles after all of this time. Once I tell the brass abut what I'm seeing they'll send me home for sure…_

Well, if he was crazy that may explain why he had been seeing things. It still didn't explain why he was out here and why the Germans, if they had been to ones who brought him here weren't keeping guard. Maybe they had brought him out here, only to be attacked and forced away? If that was the case then there was no hint of this having occurred, no dead bodies, no spent bullet casings…The only signs of battle were the few nearby craters, obviously caused by stray artillery shells.

Standing up unsteadily, he looked down at himself and saw that he was still wearing the exact same thing he had been last night. He was still in his paratrooper fatigues, save for his firearms which he had both discarded during the fighting last night. He was unarmed, something that would undoubtedly get him captured or killed if he happened to run into any more Germans.

He took a look at his wounded arm, only to see that it was patched up with some sort of grey bandage. With some uncertainty he pulled it off, noticing that the bandage itself smelt a bit odd. Underneath, the bullet wound had already begun to heal at an uncanny rate, furthering the Major's feeling of unease.

He threw the bandage aside and started to work out what he should do next. If he was outside the city then his best bet was to hook up with the Polish Airborne division that was due to arrive near the city soon. The Poles were already running late due to bad weather and their help was desperately needed if the British had any chance of holding onto the bridge in Arnhem.

George did feel obligated to go back into the city and help his fellow paratroopers but what could he possibly do? He had no gun and he was beginning to see things, hence he was in no state to go out and fight. However, he did have himself a conveniently located armoured car he could use to get into the city and armoured vehicles would no doubt be of some help to his fellow British paratroopers who were still fighting it out in the city.

George decided that he would take the armoured car back into the city, turning around to face it. He noticed that the sounds of battle within the city had ceased for now, a hint that both sides were taking a break or that the Germans had finally won. He had no way of knowing for sure and so was obligated to help in the fight in any way he could, this included bringing in an armoured vehicle as a combat asset. Once he was in it he would be mostly safe from German infantry but if he encountered any German tanks…well, he would have to figure something out when that happened.

He was about to start towards the vehicle when it began to do the shape-shifting thing he had seen it do the night before. Stumbling back in surprise, George inadvertently fell on his backside as he watched the armoured car fold out from itself, changing into the tall and imposing machine man he had seen only briefly the night before. Immediately George closed his eyes, trying to shake the vision from his head, telling himself that it wasn't real.

When he opened his eyes the tall metal figure was still standing there, looking down at him curiously with its glowing blue eyes. The figure was almost thirty feet tall, its hands consisting of three metal digits and a sort of "thumb" to go with them. Two of the wheels of the metal creature's armoured car form were on one leg while the other two wheels were on the other. In fact, the figure seemed to be covered with the armour plates of the armoured car it had just been in the form of while in between was a sort of dark metal "skin". In all, the creature appeared to be some sort of armoured machine, standing on two legs like any human.

Its head had a few of the armour plates from the scout car form on either side while its eyes were set above a sort of flat panel which acted as the front of its face. Underneath this panel was its "mouth" which contained what was the metal equivalent of teeth, giving it a human-like quality that only unsettled the Major even more.

George shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. Was this some sort of new German weapon? He remembered the mysterious explosion last night and the footprints they had found in the crater…It was undoubtedly linked to the appearance of this sort of "metal monster". Whatever it was, it certainly didn't look like anything he had seen before or even thought he would ever see. It was completely alien to him, furthering the idea that maybe it wasn't from "around here".

He had read plenty of novels and comic books dealing with aliens, robots and that sort of thing. In them, the aliens or the robots were usually bad news for humans like him since they were always planning to more or less destroy humanity. George took a look into the eyes of this robot and only crawled further away from it, trying to keep his composure in order to avoid looking like an absolute coward.

The robot eyed him curiously, its face hard to read since it mostly consisted of metal plates and completely inhuman features. The eyes were the most striking feature of this creature's face, the two of them glowing a bright soothing blue colour that only managed to calm the frightened Major down slightly.

George was convinced he was seeing things, although how he had come up with this was beyond his knowledge. Never had he even thought once about this sort of creature…or robot…or whatever the hell it was. He considered the option of running away but he figured this would only annoy the creature.

He remembered the footprints that had been found in the crater the night before, the Major managing a glance down at the feet of the tall and imposing metal creature. They matched the footprints if his memory served correctly, further implying that both the crater and this creature were linked. If some of his squad members had seen the footprints then that meant that maybe he wasn't the only one he could see this. He was just the only one who could see it _now_; no doubt everyone else would be able to see it if it crossed into their view.

Slowly, but surely, George spoke. His voice was a bit feeble in tone all of a sudden, as if the sheer shock of what he was seeing had sapped his vocal chords of most of their strength.

"What…are…you?" George asked, trying to get his voice loud enough just in case the robot creature couldn't hear him. He realized that this was a stupid thought…as if the robot didn't have some sort of super hearing ability?

Suddenly the robot's mouth opened and it began to speak, albeit in a language that George immediately recognized as Germany. This only furthered his fear and the Major stood up, slowly backing further away as the robot spoke in a deep, male sounding voice…albeit in the language of the enemy George had been fighting for the last few years.

The thought occurred to him that maybe this was some sort of new German weapon but something told him that this was impossible. No one had the technology to build something like this, not even the Germans. From what George had heard, the Germans were fairly good at their scientific pursuits and had come up with the V1 and V2 rockets, both of which were capable of flying out of bases in Germany and straight towards Britain. The Germans were also excellent engineers, having built some of the best tanks of the war. However, he doubted that even they could come up with something like what he was seeing now.

"You're German!" George heard himself exclaiming, "at least, that's what you're speaking…I can't understand a thing you're saying!"

George stopped when the robot creature ceased talking, able to hear that he was unable to understand it. The robot creature seemed to think about what to say next, how to possibly communicate. All of a sudden, it took on a voice laced with a British accent much like George's and spoke, repeating what he had just said.

George realized that if it had wanted to kill him it would have done it by now. It certainly wouldn't be trying to communicate with him if it had wanted him dead. Such a creature would have the power to simply flick him aside like an annoying insect and perhaps this was what the robot creature considered George: a mere insect, albeit one it was interested in communicating with.

Suddenly, the robot spoke again, this time reciting the sort of radio signal the besieged British paratroopers within Arnhem would be sending out.

"_This is Lieutenant Colonel John Frost,"_ the robot said, George recognizing the name as the man who was leading the force of paratroopers that were holding the bridge in Arnhem, _"we need reinforcements. The Gerries are hurting us badly here and we are barely holding onto the bridge…We're low on supplies and are taking heavy casualties..."_

George decided to try and get a proper conversation started, able to tell that the alien robot was having trouble communicating with him. It seemed to have a good grasp of German, probably having spent some time listening in on German radio channels that were broadcasting through the region. There weren't many British radios in operation in the area; hence the reason the robot had no grasp of the English language. There was simply hardly any of it to listen in on.

However, it seemed to be learning fast. Obviously this alien robot was in no way affiliated with the Germans or anyone else for that matter…It was not of this world; that much was for sure. The armoured car trick had been a mere disguise, enabling it to lay low within the battle-zone. George had a feeling that an alien from parts unknown could help out in the battle, although something told him that it wouldn't be taking sides in this war.

Suddenly, the robot began speaking through itself and not from a radio signal it had intercepted. Gone was the German accent; in its place was a cockney British one that sounded a lot like the voice of Lieutenant Colonel John Frost. George had met Frost on a few occasions and so was able to recognize the voice as a result.

"The Gerries, they're the others, aren't they?" The robot asked, its voice at times slow as if it was uncertain. George simply nodded, deciding to try and get this conversation started. He knew that the alien robot had kept brought him out here for a reason and so he intended on finding out.

"I'm Major George Weller," George said, trying to gain his composure while the fear in him subsided somewhat. He could see that this robot meant him no harm, a fact that helped relax him slightly. Sure, he may have been hallucinating but it was a damn interesting hallucination and was certainly better than slugging it out in the streets of Arnhem, fighting the Germans.

"I am of the British 1st Airborne Division," George continued, "and we've been struggling to hold onto Arnhem for the last five days. We're outnumbered and outgunned…but we're still managing to give the Gerries a darn good thrashing!" He tried his best to sound excited but he had been through to much to be excited about the battle for Arnhem anymore: his last sentence came out in an uneven tone, as if deep down it wasn't the best thing to say.

"I like to be known as 'Deadeye'," the robot replied, its British accent still in place, "I am an Autonomous Robotic Life-form…"

"A…what?" George frowned, unable to quite believe what he was hearing. Deadeye? What kind of odd name was that? And what was this about "robotic life-forms" anyway? In fact, it sounded like the sort of thing he would expect to read in a cheap comic book.

"I'm an Autobot," Deadeye continued, "from the planet of Cybertron. I'm…well, I'm not actually meant to be here."

George was certain that he was hallucinating but he continued with the conversation regardless. Maybe he had finally snapped and as a result he found himself talking to a robot from another planet…if this was the case he would try and enjoy his insanity before reality returned to end this interesting hallucination.

"What planet is this?" Deadeye asked, "Where am I?"

George frowned, thinking that of all things this alien should know what planet it's on. Of course, the previous statement that Deadeye was "not meant to be here" implied that coming to Earth hadn't been his original intention.

"Earth," George replied.

Deadeye seemed to think about this for a moment, as if searching his memory for any mention of a planet called "Earth". By the look that crossed the robot's metallic face George assumed he didn't find one.

"Earth? Never heard of it…" Deadeye paused for a moment, thinking. "May as well call it 'dirt' with a name like that."

George shrugged, realizing how strange this was all turning out to be. He had just met an alien robot from another planet that seemed to have no idea of what planet it was now on: the best the Major could do was humour the "Autobot", as it had called itself.

"I came here by accident, while trying to kill a Decepticon war criminal known as 'Centurion'," Deadeye explained, "the Autobots and Decepticons have been at war for generations. Our home-world has become devastated…Centurion was in the process of some sort of teleportation when I interrupted it…"

"Teleportation?" George frowned, confused at what he was hearing. All of this talk about war and "Decepticons" was beginning to perplex him.

"Appearing in an entirely different place almost instantaneously," Deadeye replied, "something that is far beyond your current technology. I was caught in the displacement field and was brought here…purely by accident."

"So, you 'accidentally' ended up here on Earth?" George asked, quite sure he had lost his mind. Teleportation? Displacement field? What the hell was all that about?

Regardless, George knew he should be grateful to this alien visitor seeing that he had saved him from capture r death at the hands of the Germans the night before. He decided he would at least hear this "Autobot" through, no matter how far-fetched things began to sound.

"Well, you've ended up right in the middle of another war," George said, "one between us Allies and the Germans. This city is called 'Arnhem' and it's in a place called 'Holland', otherwise known as 'The Netherlands'. It seems that you've been sent from one war to another."

Deadeye listened to the Major's words carefully, considering this simplified explanation of what was going on. Deadeye probably had no clue as to what this war was about but he didn't need one: he wasn't supposed to be here, anyway.

What worried George was the mention of this "Centurion" guy…or robot…or alien…Whatever he was, he was probably in the city somewhere as well. If Deadeye had been caught in this "displacement field" then Centurion probably had as well, thus this alien war criminal could be in the area.

"I must find Centurion," Deadeye said, "you may be wondering why I brought you here, George, but I needed information. And we can probably help each other."

George frowned.

"How could I help you?" George asked, having completely resigned himself to this hallucination. Something told him that this situation was more real than he was letting himself believe, although he knew that if he told anyone else about this he would most likely be thrown into a mental institution.

"You can tell me of Earth…of your people," Deadeye said, "and you can help me find Centurion. He is still around here, my sensors have detected trace amounts of the energy he used to teleport here being left in his wake. This has lead me to believe that he is inside the city of Arnhem somewhere, but I will be unable to avoid conflict with your German enemies without your help. I do not wish to harm anymore of your people…" He paused, as if a rather important thought had crossed his mind.

"My father always told me never to harm organic life…I can't believe I've already broken that rule," Deadeye said, more to himself. He shook his head, leaving George to think of how a robot could have a father in the first place. Weren't robots mere machines, with no personalities and just programmed commands in them?

Deadeye was showing emotions just like any human being would. His British accent also added to the human-like traits, leading George to believe that this robot was no mere machine…He was more than that, much more.

"I can tell you a lot about us…Deadeye," George said, noticing that the "Autobot" had gone quite all of a sudden, as if overcome with emotion. He could tell from the way it was staring out into space that there was plenty playing on its mind…

"I'll help you find this 'Centurion' fellow as well," George said, realizing that he was probably making a mistake in this regard. How could he help an alien find another alien?

"You do not need to come with me if you don't want to, George," Deadeye said, breaking out of his reverie, "you can leave. I can probably do this alone…"

George shook his head, a little demoralised at the Autobot's change of mind. If anyone was going to see this through, it was him. He was the human the robot had chosen and he would make sure he didn't let Deadeye down.

"I'm going to come with you, Deadeye," George said, rather determinedly, "and I'm going to help you in any way I can. You obviously weren't supposed to come here and since you helped me, I'll help you when it comes to getting you back home."

George wasn't too sure just whether or not agreeing to help this alien was a good idea. It would certainly be a whole new experience, helping an alien robot get back to his home planet. George felt obligated to help since Deadeye had saved his life last night. If this robot needed help he would give it to him.

"I do not wish for anymore of your people to become aware of my existence," Deadeye said, "I've already been seen by enough already. The less they know of me, the better."

George nodded. Obviously, Deadeye wasn't keen on getting the attention of the rest of the human race. This was understandable since the arrival of an extraterrestrial like himself could completely interfere with the progress of a less advanced race like the humans. Besides, George was still quite sure he was hallucinating all of this but he would have to be careful of what he did, just in case he wasn't.

"You can do that shape changing trick," George suggested. Deadeye seemed to have been thinking this already and changed back into the German armoured car right before the Major's eyes. Slight gobsmacked, George started towards the armoured car and found that it had all the properties of one with no hint of it being an alien.

It made the perfect disguise, there was no doubt about that. There was also the fact that maybe George wasn't hallucinating at all: that all of this was actually quite real. Regardless, the Major climbed aboard the armoured car and manned the main gun, the car itself beginning to drive onto the road before heading into the city.

_What an interesting day this will be,_ George thought.


	5. Street Battle

**Street Battle  
**Arnhem, Holland  
September 20th, 1944

There was a lone German scout car driving through the devastated streets of Arnhem, its armour dirtied in places but otherwise it was quite intact. At a glance it was just another of the many scout cars that the Germans were using in the battle for the city but in fact it was much more than that. It would never have occurred to anyone other than Major George Weller that the scout car was in fact a disguised alien robot, one that had accidentally ended up on Earth the night before.

The scout car had all the properties of an ordinary scout car, with the thin armour plating capable of deflecting bullets to the cramped interior. It also had a turret capable of firing large 20mm rounds, these large rounds powerful enough to rip any foot soldier to shreds. In fact, this scout car was no different to the others and as a result it barely received a second glance from the nearby German soldiers as it drove past.

By now the skies had cleared over the city and the dawn shades of orange and purple had gone out of the sky, leaving it a deep blue colour. It would certainly be a nice day weather wise, but being in a war-torn city surrounded by the enemy could easily kill the brightened up mood such weather could bring.

George sat inside the cramped confines of the armoured car, taking note of how the smell of diesel that was often associated with vehicles like this was lacking. It was obvious that the robot…Deadeye had been the name it had called itself. George wasn't sure whether it was a "he" or not, although it certainly had the look and voice to be considered male. He wondered if machines could even have genders but decided that pondering such trivial matters was a waste of time.

He sat in the driver's seat, a view of the outside supplied through a fairly limiting slit in front of him. He could see the rubble-strewn streets and the German Panzergrenadier soldiers that wandered past, completely oblivious to the presence of the British paratrooper who was inside the armoured car. George had decided that if he was to avoid bringing attention to himself he would have to stay inside the car until they were clear of the enemy positions. It seemed that the Germans were beginning to successfully secure large parts of the city from the British paratroopers, a sign that the battle was nearing an end and that the Brits were almost defeated.

It was understandable, losing a battle like this. For the last four to five days George and the other paratroopers had been forced to hold onto the Arnhem Bridge against an enemy that outnumbered them and had tanks and armoured cars for support. No matter how hard the British paratroopers had fought they would all eventually run out of ammunition, something that even George had suffered from. He had run clean out of bullets during the fighting the night before and so was unarmed now with only the scout car's mounted gun as his form of defence.

However, since the robot known as Deadeye didn't seem keen on harming humans George guessed the mounted gun wouldn't fire when he wanted it to. It seemed that the Major was stuck unarmed and in hostile territory with only a pacifist alien robot as company. He wondered if things could get any worse.

They probably could, he decided. He was alive and had barely suffered any wounds save for a bullet he had taken in the left arm, a wound that was already healing itself over. Whatever had been in that bandage Deadeye had put on it was far more advanced than any medicine that the Major knew of. His situation could be worse: for one thing, he could be dead.

George was still unable to quite fathom all he had learnt from his unlikely new ally. In fact, he was still trying to determine whether or not he wasn't just dreaming or having some kind of extended hallucination. Alien robot? Teleportation? It all sounded like something out of a cheap comic book.

Apparently Deadeye was after some evil alien robot known simply as "Centurion". George had decided to help him out in his search, seeing as he owed the robot something for having saved his life the night before. It seemed like a stupid idea, helping an alien robot out on its quest to find what Deadeye had referred to as a "Decepticon war criminal" but George felt obligated to help. Deadeye had had no intention of coming to Earth according to what he had told the Major. In fact, his presence on this world had occurred purely be accident.

Of course, Deadeye could simply be making things up. George couldn't see why but maybe it was all part of some elaborate scheme to destroy humanity. However, George realized that this line of thinking wasn't especially helpful and more the result of him having read a few too many comic books and science fiction novels. In those, the robots or the aliens were always out to destroy humanity in some way, often tricking humans into helping them.

However, George had to hand it to the alien robot: he certainly knew how to get through hostile places while keeping a low profile. None of the patrolling German soldiers had taken any notice of them, all of them thinking that the armoured scout car was simply one of their own. None of them could have possibly even considered the notion that it was a robot from another planet. The last thing on their minds would be such a far-fetched idea, especially when they were all quite busy fighting in a war. They would be too worried about their own safety than to investigate the suspicious armoured car that was gradually driving through the streets, travelling further and further into the devastated city.

The sounds of battle became audible as they came closer to the bridge. The bridge was what had been at the centre of all of this dogged fighting in Arnhem and was the one objective the British paratroopers had been able to hold on to longest. However, even this defence was beginning to thin from the constant shelling and the waves of German soldiers that threw themselves at the Brits at the bridge and nearby streets. By now ammunition would be at an all time low and casualties would be horrendous: the British paratroopers simply didn't have the numbers or supplies to hold to their positions for much longer.

George had simply let Deadeye drive along, deciding that it was best he let the technologically advanced alien robot do what it had to do. If it was indeed on the trail of an evil alien robot then George was probably better off not interfering until his help was needed, whenever that would be. He doubted Deadeye would ever need his aid though: what could he possibly do to help?

Sitting back in the hard metal driver's seat, George looked at the dashboard ahead of him. Most of these armoured cars were simply standard Jeeps and the like given a makeover which was made up of armoured plating and a big gun on top. The interior of such a vehicle was often hot and stuffy or freezing cold depending on the weather outside while the smell of diesel fuel filtered inside. However, there was none of that inside this particular armoured car: the temperature within was at a comfortable level while there was no stench of fuel at all. On the steering wheel, which was moving itself as was the rest of the vehicle, there was set within its centre an odd looking little emblem. It sort of resembled a very square looking skull or face, much like the face of Deadeye himself. Perhaps it was the sort of symbol one would fly on a flag, being some sort of discerning mark.

To one corner of the vehicle was a small grille, one that looked into the front of the scout car. It was through this grille that Deadeye's voice filtered through, the grille itself acting as some sort of speaker.

"I have detected a trail of residual energy that has most likely been left behind by Centurion," Deadeye said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen within the inside of the vehicle. George almost jumped out of his seat in surprise, having grown quite accustomed to the silence. Outside, the occasional distant shell explosion and rifle shot sounded but otherwise it was still rather quiet.

"Really? Well, ah…where's it lead?" George wasn't too sure on what he should say in response to this, deciding that his best option would be to humour the robot. The Major was in way over his head, he knew that: he just didn't know how to get out of what he had gotten himself into.

"Further into the city," Deadeye replied, turning a corner around a bombed-out school. Two German soldiers stood nearby, watching the vehicle drive past but they otherwise didn't show any other signs of interest. If anything the disguise was working admirably.

"How much further?" George asked, curious. Arnhem was a fairly large city and some parts had been left largely untouched by the fighting. George, however, wasn't about to abandon fellow paratroopers when he was still in a position to help.

"Towards the river that runs through this city," Deadeye said, "which isn't too far. There is a chance that Centurion had decided to simply interfere with your species' conflict for his own amusement. If this has happened it is my duty to prevent him from causing major damage."

_His own amusement? So, this Centurion guy actually enjoys killing?_ George didn't like the sound of this Centurion robot but he was still quite determined to see this through, if only to satisfy his curiosity. He had stumbled upon something that would undoubtedly make a good story to tell people when he got back home, _if_ he ever made it home. No one would believe him, anyway.

"He sounds like a nice chap, this 'Centurion'," George said, peering through the small viewing slit in front of him. Outside they had started down a winding and narrow street, typical of a European city such as this. There didn't seem to be anyone in this particular street and a closer look revealed that the end was blocked by a large pile of rubble. The smoking hulk of a partially destroyed Panzer tank sat behind the rubble, the result of a past firefight.

Deadeye stopped before the rubble, obviously contemplating on where to head next. This way was obviously blocked but a more thorough look at their surroundings revealed that something large, about the size of a tank, had crashed its way through a house to their right. This tank had in turn driven straight through the lounge room of this house and out of the other side, heading into a side-street which in turn went onto a main road.

Once George and the other paratroopers had been briefed on their part in Operation Market Garden they had been made to memorize maps of the region, standard practice for any paratrooper before a big operation. If memory served George correctly then the side-street beyond the path that had been cleared through the house went straight onto the very road that leads directly to Arnhem Bridge.

"There is much of the residual energy here," Deadeye said after some deliberation, "it is safe to assume that Centurion has taken a vehicular disguise himself."  
George nodded, although he wasn't sure that Deadeye could see him. It made sense that this Centurion robot could pull the same shape-shifting stunt Deadeye could do, seeing as they were both from the same planet and race.

However, George knew that going to the bridge would take them straight into the fiercest fighting that was happening in the city. He figured that Deadeye probably knew this much judging from all the sounds of battle they could hear coming from the direction of the bridge. It probably wasn't enough to stop Deadeye from going, even if it meant they may come under fire.

"Well…drive away," George said after a long pause, trying to decide whether or not sticking with this alien robot was actually worth the risk. Sure, he felt obligated to help but that obligation was beginning to wane a little as he realized just how dangerous things were getting. He was in way over his head, to say the least.

Deadeye was about to start driving again when there was a shout from somewhere outside and close by, followed by the sound of an explosion. This explosion occurred only a short distance from the armoured car, sending up dirt and debris. Immediately George looked through the viewing slits ahead of him and to his sides, looking for the cause of the explosion.

He was somewhat relieved to see a fellow British paratrooper positioned on the second storey of a shelled-out house. He was holding a German Panzerschreck anti-tank weapon which was being loaded from behind by another paratrooper. They obviously thought the scout car was a proper German vehicle, a fact that George was quite willing to go along with, just on the condition that he wasn't blown up by his own side.

With a brief effort he had opened the hatch above and had stuck his head out of the armoured car, waving frantically at the two paratroopers up in the window nearby. They immediately relaxed when they saw him and the one holding the Panzerschreck lowered the weapon, looking relieved. Both paratroopers were as dirty as George was.

George watched as another four paratroopers came out of hiding near the house with the tank tracks through it. The one that stepped forward was wearing a red beret and bore the insignia on his uniform that showed he was a Colonel. He was tall and had a light brown moustache, his face wearing a rather pleased expression when he saw what the Major had brought with him.

"Good show, Major!" The Colonel called as he approached, "an armoured car! We may have use for that…"

George looked down at the armoured car, unsurprisingly receiving no reaction from the disguised alien robot. He was the only human who knew of Deadeye's existence save for the Germans who had glimpsed him the night before, although they would probably be judged as crazy when they reported such a sighting to their superiors.

"I'm Colonel Kelly," the Colonel said, "we were on our way to help Lieutenant Colonel Frost and the lads at the bridge until we heard you coming…We almost blew you up!" He said this last sentence with some amusement, as if the thought of almost blowing up George was funny. Of course, George himself didn't see the joke.

"This scout car will be of some help in the battle, that's for sure!" Kelly continued, slapping the side of the armoured car which sounded with a dull _clonk!_

George knew that he and Deadeye had some urgent business to attend to and so didn't really need this distraction. However, he knew it was his duty to provide the help the Colonel wanted which came in the form of the armoured car, which in turn was in fact Deadeye the alien robot. George shook his head, realizing just how absurd this was.

Kelly saw this and raised an eyebrow, curious.

"Something on your mind, Major?" He asked.

George looked down at him, his train of thought broken. He shook his head in response to the question, having figured that there wouldn't be any harm in helping fellow paratroopers. Deadeye would probably disagree but the disguised robot couldn't talk right now without risk of alerting the Colonel and the others to his existence.

"Well, enough standing around here then!" Kelly turned around to face the rest of his ragtag group of paratroopers, directing them towards the path that had been driven through the nearby house. "The bridge is that way, lads. The Major will back us up in his newfound toy."

George realized he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, watching as Kelly and the half a dozen or so paratroopers started through the house and into the side-street beyond. George went back inside the armoured car, seeing that Deadeye had gotten the gist of the situation and so had already started his engines. He started in the wake of Kelly and his group, following them into the narrow side-street before driving over a few piles of rubble and heading out onto a main road.

This main road went directly to the bridge and so was littered with tank obstacles, piles of rubble and the hulks of destroyed vehicles. The bodies of both German soldiers and British paratroopers littered the street while the buildings on either side had been reduced to their frames. Up ahead was an anti-tank gun emplacement, one that had been left abandoned for the last few days. A few dead Germans lay nearby while a few crates of shells for the anti-tank gun were stacked close to them.

Kelly had started towards the emplacement, heading in the general direction of the bridge. He and his men were moving slow and cautiously, the threat of artillery and snipers all the more profound in an area like this.

Following close behind the group was George, sitting inside the scout car which was in fact the disguised Deadeye. It occurred to the Major that they were probably headed in the right direction of Centurion since Deadeye was yet to alert him that things were otherwise. Peering through the viewing slit in the front of the vehicle, George could make out the long rubble-strewn main road and the shape of the bridge in the distance.

The German artillery started again at that instant. The whistle of incoming shells became audible and immediately Kelly and his squad spread out, each of them heading for cover. Shells exploded nearby, sending up dirt and debris in this wake. Kelly was shouting orders to his group to take cover and they were already on their way into nearby buildings as the next volley arrived.

George suddenly felt very vulnerable indeed, sitting in the armoured car as artillery fire rained down around him. Sure, he was actually sitting in the vehicle form of an alien robot but that didn't really help him feel any safer.

The artillery seemed to stop briefly as the gun crews began to reload. However, it soon occurred to George that they had stopped for another reason as well: there was a whole lot of German soldiers coming from behind, heading up the road and straight towards the paratroopers.

Deadeye was the one to alert George to the arrival of this force of German Panzergrenadiers, the robot's British accented voice sounding throughout the inside of the vehicle.

"Behind us!" He exclaimed suddenly.

George sat up, reaching for the hatch and opening it. He peered out, looking back down the devastated main road. He saw the numerous elite German Panzergenadiers making their way up the street, followed by a pair of Panzer tanks bearing green camouflage patterns. Their cannons fired and the explosions that erupted a short distance from the armoured car sent dirt and debris flying while shaking the ground momentarily. Dirt flew into George's face and he wiped it away, spitting some of it out of his mouth.

Another Panzer tank crashed through a wall across the street and immediately Deadeye's engines kicked into life. The newly arrived Panzer tank opened fire towards the speeding armoured car, George managing to jump clear of the vehicle before the shell landed. The Major landed painfully on some rubble, the wind being knocked out of him. Nearby, Deadeye, still in the form of the armoured car, was sent rolling over from the force of the explosion. The disguised alien robot came to rest out the front of a shelled-out town house and remained motionless. The thought occurred to George that maybe Deadeye was dead but he doubted it. He was quite confident the robot would be back in action soon, but he wasn't able to watch, forced to flee for safety. He had no weapon and there were a heck of a lot of German soldiers coming his way.

He started to crawl for cover, slowly regaining his breath. By now a full-blown firefight had erupted in the street as the dozens of German Panzergrenadiers opened fire on the small amount of British paratroopers, Colonel Kelly included. The two Panzer tanks down the street started to rumble their way towards the British positions, their front-firing machine guns spraying withering amounts of fire at the paratroopers.

George looked back at the Panzer tank that had blown Deadeye away, noticing that faint shimmering blue glow at the turret. It occurred to him then and there that he was looking at no ordinary Panzer tank. Then again, today was no ordinary day.

He looked back at the armoured car form of Deadeye, only to find that the robot had gone. George was left trying to figure out what the hell had just happened and where the alien robot had gone to, only for the not so ordinary Panzer tank to fire its main gun again. This time the shot exploded in a fireball of blue-white flame, sending heat washing over the Major as the blast hit the ground a few metres away and left a small black crater.

George covered his head in an effort to protect himself from the falling debris, managing a look ahead when the shower of dirt had ended. He saw the abandoned anti-tank gun and realized that it was his only chance. Sure, it was a definite long-shot: how could he single-handedly man an anti-tank gun without getting blasted to pieces?

Behind him, the not-so ordinary Panzer tank had turned around, as if distracted. It started back the way it had come, leaving the battle that was happening in the street behind.

George decided against following it, knowing that Colonel Kelly and his group needed his help. He started crawling for the anti-tank gun, bullets zooming overhead and kicking up dirt around him. He did his best to keep his cool and not stand up and make a run for it, knowing full well that would simply result in him getting mowed down.

Again one of the Panzer tanks fired, the shell slamming into the ground a short distance away. The blast shook the ground beneath the Major as he kept crawling, leaving a high-pitched ringing in his ears that subsided after a moment or two. George crawled past the three dead German soldiers lying near the anti-tank gun, finding his way into the relative safety behind the metal shield at the front of the gun itself. He went into a crouched position and set himself behind the anti-tank gun, taking a brief look at its mechanisms and figuring that he could handle it. There were two crates worth of shells for the weapon near him and he grabbed one of the silver coloured shells, shoving it into the loading slide on the weapon and pushing it into the back of the barrel.

Along the sights he could see one of the Panzers turning its turret towards him. Colonel Kelly and his group had taken cover amongst some rubble up ahead and were valiantly firing away at the oncoming German soldiers although it was obvious that the small group would be overrun. George was determined to ensure that this didn't happen, first by getting rid of both Panzer tanks.

George slowly turned the turret towards the tank that was preparing to fire at his position, making sure that his aim was on target. With a brief effort George pulled on the firing mechanism, the gun booming before him. It jumped back slightly where it sat but slid back into place almost immediately. The boom had partially deafened the Major but this didn't stop him from watching the ensuing chaos his shot had caused, watching as the Panzer tank he had targeted exploded as the shell hit it in one set of treads. The caterpillar tread itself snapped off and flopped uselessly onto the ground, effectively immobilizing the tank. Smoke poured from the engine and seconds later flames appeared, licking at the armour of the tank and sending a thick plume of dark grey smoke flowing forth. The hatch on top opened and the tank crew began to pile out hurriedly in order to escape their burning vehicle, the tank commander shouting angrily in German.

Immediately some of the German soldiers ahead fired in George's direction. The Major ducked as bullets pinged off of the metal shield on the gun in front of him, bouncing harmlessly away. George grabbed another shell and angled the anti-tank gun in order to aim at the other tank, watching as this particular tank was busy firing its machine gun in the direction of two of Colonel Kelly's squad members. Without any further delay George pushed the shell into the anti-tank gun, firing the weapon as soon as the shell was in.

The top of the Panzer tank exploded, effectively killing all those inside of it while sending a showing of burning metal flying outwards. The German soldiers ahead started laying down suppressing fire on George's position, bullets pinging off of the gun's metal shield. One of them managed to pass through the slight gap in the shield where the barrel sat, hitting George in the right shoulder.

With a shout the Major fell back, a sharp stinging pain searing through him. He clutched at where he had been hit, his hand coming back sticky with his own blood. Regardless he sat up, taking a deep breath as he went to grab another shell. However, a familiar looking object clattered onto the ground near him and when he saw that it was a German stick grenade he decided to leave the anti-tank gun alone. His heart beating wildly, he had only a few seconds to react.

He stood up and dived for cover, the grenade detonating behind him. In turn, both crates of anti-tank shells detonated and a massive ball of flame erupted forth from where the anti-tank gun had been sitting. Razor sharp pieces of hot shrapnel rained down from the heavens, pattering into the ground near the Major like some sort of metal rain. The sound of the explosion was deafening, more so than any others that had previously knocked him down.

With some effort the Major began to crawl for cover, bullets flying past him as the German soldiers further encroached on his position. Colonel Kelly and his group were gone, having fallen back into the nearby set of mostly destroyed houses. George realized now that he was alone, forced to fend for himself in this particular battle.

He stumbled upon a fallen German soldier from a past battle, finding that this particular dead man was still clutching his MP40 submachine gun. By now the German soldiers ahead were closing in, exchanging shouts and orders as they searched for the troublesome British paratroopers.

George grabbed the submachine gun and the spare magazines that were on the dead German. From somewhere nearby, behind the line of destroyed houses, he could hear fighting with metal clashing against metal. If anything, he wanted to find out what was going on behind those houses but first he would have to get out of this situation first. His best bet was to simply start running, an idea that crossed his mind on more than one occasion.

The German artillery started again, shells exploding all across the street and blowing off chunks of nearby buildings. If anything, George knew he should head for better cover. He made sure the MP40 submachine gun was loaded before turning his attention towards the German Panzergrenadiers encroaching on his position, seeing that three of the German soldiers were stepping into view. Without any hesitation George pulled the MP40's trigger, the gun shaking in his grip as it sprayed 9mm rounds out at an alarming rate. The three Germans spun and stumbled, spurts of blood erupting from them as they were riddled with bullets. There were shouts from nearby as the other German soldiers saw their comrades fall, realizing now that the area wasn't as secure as they had thought.

With the most immediate threats neutralized George rose to his feet, sprinting for the ruined house across the street. A shell exploded near him when he was on his way there, sending him flying into the ground in a painful manner. Dazed for a moment, he quickly gathered his senses as he stood up, shaking his head and rubbing his ringing ears.

_How many times was that now?_ He thought, having lost track of the amount of times he had almost been hit by an artillery shell. The few bullets that pounded into the ground near him broke him out of these thoughts, giving him a reason to get up and start running again.

He made it into the devastated house, weapons firing from somewhere behind him as bullets slammed into the walls near him. He ignored them as he continued on his way through the roofless and mostly destroyed building, glancing behind as he went only to see that a pair of the German soldiers had started to follow him.

George mowed them both down as they came into range, barely giving them another moment's thought. His attention was focused on finding Deadeye and to find out what was causing the sounds of a fight nearby. George stumbled through the destroyed building and started his way through a narrow alley, just as something large and imposing darted past up ahead. He stopped, weapon raised as he slowly stepped out into the side-street.

By now he was exhausted, bruised and battered with a few cuts and grazes on his body. His ears were still ringing from all of the explosions that had knocked him down while his combat fatigues were dirty and ragged. He was surprised when he saw what was going on in this particular street.

Deadeye was here, standing tall and proud in full robot form. From his right arm some sort of cannon had appeared, attached to him which implied that it was somehow part of him. This didn't surprise George so much, what did was the other tall and imposing alien robot at the other end of the street.

This one was a bit taller and much meaner looking than Deadeye, with glowing red eyes and a face that more or less said "don't mess with me". Parts of it were constituted with the armour plating of a Panzer tank, certifying the fact that it had been the suspicious tank that had almost blown George away earlier. Other parts of it were silver and quite jagged, as if to add to the overall imposing look. This particular alien robot had cannons on both arms, the barrels of both glowing an eerie blue-white. On the back of the robot was a long, thin yet shiny silver object attached to him and it was from here that some sort of blue-white field of energy was emanating, enveloping the robot in some sort of shimmering force field.

George figured that the tall and evil looking robot was Centurion. It seemed that Deadeye had tracked him down after all and now both of them were in some sort of stand-off. George decided against intervening unless he was needed and so went behind a short stone wall out the front of the nearest destroyed house, deciding to watch on from his own little hiding place. After all, he wasn't trained to deal with this sort of thing. Let the robots fight amongst themselves, that's what he had decided. Besides, he was exhausted and bleeding from the shoulder. What could he possibly do to help?

* * *

**A/N: **I've always been interested in war history, hence the reason for the whole premise of this section of the story: What would happen if a Cybertronian ended up in the Second World War? Operation Market Garden seemed an appropriate place (it's not as well known a battle as say, Normandy or Italy) and I was inspired to set it in Arnhem because I had recently played through the excellent game _Medal of Honour: Frontline_. The best level in that game is the "Arnhem Knights" level and thus it inspired me to write this part of the story. There's one more chapter set in Arnhem after this one before I get into the gritty NEST stuff set in the present day, as well as introducing some original characters. I've decided to strike a balance between original characters and movie characters, including several of each type.

To those of you who would like to know more about Operation Market Garden, look it up on Wikipedia (they have a lengthy article on it there). Then again, you can look up anything on Wikipedia and find an article on it with suitable length.


	6. Deadeye vs Centurion

**Deadeye vs. Centurion  
**Arnhem, Holland  
September 20th, 1944

It had finally come to this. Ever since his arrival on this strange planet which was ruled over by a dominant race of organic bipeds, Deadeye had been determined to find his way home again. Cybertron was a devastated and quite inhospitable place, even for a hardy robot like himself. Still, it was the closest thing he had to a home and he was adamant in his stance to return. He didn't want to spend the rest of his long life stranded here, the only one of his race to have come here. At least, he didn't know of any other Cybertronians like himself who had ventured to Earth although he could very well be mistaken in his assumption that he was the only one.

Then there was the war criminal Centurion, a fellow Cybertronian and Decepticon. It hadn't taken much to track down the war criminal, the odd energy that Deadeye found in trace amounts in the city seeming to have emanated from Centurion himself. It was still coming off of him now, as if he was enveloped in it. Deadeye had also left residual traces of it behind him, possibly a direct result of the teleport that had haphazardly dumped him upon this world. However, the amounts he emitted were gradually reducing. In the case of Centurion, however, they seemed to be increasing.

Deadeye was only new to this whole Autobot vs. Decepticons thing, having been kept out of it by his father until he had been deemed ready enough. The young Autobot had had plenty of time to prepare himself, training in both close combat and the use of ranged weaponry until he was quite skilled in both areas. He was confident he could handle any situation he encountered in the war, although being teleported to an alien world with a dangerous war criminal had not been something he had been expecting.

The young Autobot had discovered that the race of organics here called themselves "Humans" and were apparently in the process of waging a devastating war across several continents of their world (which was known as "Earth"). It seemed that Deadeye had gone from one world war to another, although the latter one was definitely not his battle. He didn't care much for the outcome of the human war that was happening around him, just as long as it didn't get in the way of him returning home.

It had been his decision to rescue the human known as "George" in order to get information about this world and what was going on. He also needed someone who could guide him through the city while Deadeye himself tracked the residual energy. Sure, he might have been able to find Centurion by himself but the layout of this city was unfamiliar to him. He needed someone who could point him in the right direction if he wanted to reach a particular point in the city, the very place where the mysterious energy was at its most abundant…

Deadeye had had much time for thought since his arrival, having come to the conclusion that whatever experiments Centurion had been undertaking back on Cybertron had in fact given the Decepticon war criminal the ability to harness the mysterious energy that seemed to be responsible for the teleport. Deadeye's sensors could not determine just what sort of energy it was; they were only able to tell that it had traces of energon in it.

If Centurion had discovered a new power source then it meant bad news for the cause of the Autobots. The things this sort of new energy was capable of doing (teleportation over great distances, for one) may give the Decepticons an edge in the war, the very edge they need to defeat the Autobots. Deadeye knew that it was now up to him to ensure that Centurion never got the chance to exploit this incredible new energy source, although the task ahead was certainly daunting.

Deadeye needed information, preferably about the energy and how Centurion had managed to teleport them to a planet light years away from their own in only a matter of seconds. He also needed a way to get back home, assuming that if they were able to get to this planet then there must have been a way to get back to Cybertron. However, the young Autobot knew that Centurion wouldn't simply give him the answers he wanted. No, this type of Decepticon would simply taunt him and probably try and kill him.

Deadeye would need a plan, something that would be troublesome to come up with. In fact, the only thing he could come up with was try and force Centurion into submission in order to get the answers he needed. Such a thing would be no easy feat; plenty of Autobots before Deadeye had tried to kill Centurion and all of them had ended up dead or wounded. What chance did a young Autobot like him have?  
Deadeye wasn't one for such depressing thoughts, knowing that he needed to keep optimistic. He no longer had need for human help since he had found Centurion. It had been surprisingly easy to follow the trail of residual and somewhat mysterious energy that the Decepticon had left in his wake, although it had become apparent that Centurion had been trying to find him as well.

Inevitably, the two of them had finally found each other amidst the war that was happening around them. The human city had been devastated from days of fighting as the two sides clashed, using somewhat primitive diesel-fuelled vehicles and cannons to level buildings and force foot soldiers from hiding. Deadeye knew barely anything of the conflict happening around them. He didn't have to know since it wasn't his fight.

One bonus was that the human vehicles made the perfect disguises. Taking the form of one of the armoured scout cars had enabled Deadeye to move around town freely without getting too much attention from the human soldiers. However, he was in full robot form now and with good reason.

Centurion stood only about twenty metres ahead, his appearance having changed slightly due to the fact he had decided to take on the form of one of the tanks that were in the city. He was in robot form now but his armour plating was that of the tank he had chosen to become the form of.

Centurion's red eyes regarded the young Autobot with some scorn, the Decepticon simply chuckling maniacally. Around them a few explosions erupted as stray artillery shells rained down from far away guns. Both Cybertronians ignored them, the pair with far more important things to worry about.

Deadeye resisted the urge to shoot first, able to tell that Centurion had something to say. He decided to let the Decepticon talk before making the first move, already trying to decide on what he should do during the fight. Centurion would be hard to beat; there was no doubt about that.

Something moved off to Deadeye's right and he glanced quickly over at the movement, able to see that George had arrived from out of the nearby alleyway. The human saw Centurion and Deadeye, obviously realizing that a fight was near its beginning since he went off and ducked behind a short stone wall that was out the front of a nearby ruined house.

_Why was he here? _Deadeye thought, trying to determine just why the human would bother coming along. It was obvious George had other things to worry about but still he had come along, as if intent on helping Deadeye.

George had served his purpose so he could just have easily left Deadeye to take on Centurion by himself. Deadeye couldn't help but feel a little better, knowing that a human he had only just recently met cared enough about him to come along and try to help. How George could possibly help was unknown and Deadeye knew that if things went well with Centurion he wouldn't need George to help him.

"I've been looking for you, Autobot," Centurion said, saying the last word with some distaste. His voice was deep and loud, echoing throughout the devastated street. He seemed to be trying to intimidate the young Autobot, a move that Deadeye didn't respond to.

Deadeye could tell that Centurion thought nothing of him, a typical reaction from a big bad Decepticon. Deadeye was only young for his race and inexperienced: the scorn evident in Centurion's voice would only fuel the young Autobot's determination to beat him in a fight.

"When I arrived via the displacement field you weren't with me," Centurion explained, "you came later, perhaps only a few of this world's minutes later. I hadn't expected you to be drawn into the displacement field when I activated it, otherwise I would have killed you beforehand."

Deadeye didn't reply, deciding to let Centurion keep talking. Already the young Autobot could sense the change in Centurion's demeanour, the Decepticon seeming to take a much more mild-mannered stance as he prepared to explain and probably try and convert Deadeye to his cause. Centurion was apparently capable of providing rather persuasive arguments, hence why he had been able to gain so many followers back on Cybertron, earlier in the war that had devastated their home-world.

"This world, Autobot," Centurion continued, "it's ripe for the taking, don't you agree? The people here are primitive, mere organic little insects that are easily killed by our technology…" He paused for added effect, a smile glinting across his metallic features. His jagged metal teeth were made visible, giving him a rather unnerving look.

"They're in the midst of a war, just like we were," Centurion said, "they are no better than us. We can help them find a better path…don't you agree?"

Deadeye didn't answer. He could tell that Centurion was trying to persuade him to his cause, although the young Autobot wasn't so easily swayed.

"The silent type, are we?" Centurion asked, a little menacingly, "how about we start with something simple?" He paused briefly, considering his options. "What's your name, young one?"

"Just call me Deadeye," the young Autobot replied, his voice resounding with confidence.

Centurion nodded, unperturbed by the young Autobot's obvious defiance. He could tell that Deadeye would take a fair amount of convincing for the Autobot to even consider helping him. It seemed they both had plenty of time, though.

"Well…_Deadeye_," Centurion continued, "you may be wondering why I came here, to this primitive world…Of course, I'm not about to tell you everything. No, not before I know you will help me in my cause."

"I will never help you," Deadeye said sternly, "I would never even consider it."

"Why?" This one word seemed to work its way right into Deadeye's very being. Centurion leaned forward, glaring at the young Autobot. "Do you not wish to have your own world, your own race to rule? This planet…this 'Earth' as the fleshlings here called it…they are primitive and misguided, going on the path that our own race is on. That path is to inevitable destruction, something our race has almost achieved…"

"That's because of Decepticons like you," Deadeye interrupted, able to tell that this annoyed Centurion by the look that crossed the Decepticon's metal features, "if it wasn't for types like you and Megatron, our planet would not be the wasteland it is now. You started this war…"

"We _both_ started this war," Centurion said, adding extra emphasis on the word 'both'. He sounded annoyed, as if the young Autobot's resistance was getting on his nerves. "It takes two sides to start a conflict…"

"Why have you come here?" Deadeye interrupted again, deciding that he wouldn't let Centurion start feeding him more attempted persuasive talk, "why this world? There is nothing here of interest to our race…as you said, the people here are primitive. Would it really be worth conquering them?"

Centurion paused to think about his answers to these questions, considering his options. That was when Deadeye saw the mysterious silver device attached to the Decepticon's back, taking note of how it seemed to be flowing with the mysterious blue energy. Whatever it was, it seemed to be the cause of why Centurion was leaving so much of it behind. It was also the key to Deadeye's situation, with the device an obvious means of activating the teleport or displacement field, whatever term best suited the phenomenon.

"It would be amusing to conquer this race," Centurion said with a metallic smile, "but that is not why I have come here. You're presence here, Deadeye, was a mere accident. But since you are now here, I think I'll let you in on a few things." The Decepticon paused, considering what to say next.

"You are in way over your head, unless you join me," Centurion said, "together we can share in the amazing power I have discovered…"

"What power?" Deadeye was beginning to get annoyed now. It was obvious Centurion wasn't about to tell him everything, furthering the young Autobot's determination to start and win a fight.

"The power to become a _God!_" Centurion shouted this, his voice booming throughout the rubble-strewn street. As if in reply a few more artillery shells landed nearby, sending up clouds of dirt and debris but otherwise both Cybertronians ignored them.

"I am only halfway there," Centurion said, his eyes lighting up as if driven by an inner madness, "the device on my back…it is a little souvenir I picked up from the Omniverse…"

"Omniverse?" Deadeye frowned, confused, "what's that?"

"I should have known…you are too young to have a good grasp of history." Centurion paused briefly, thinking about how he should explain this. "Are you familiar with The Fallen?"

Deadeye had only vaguely heard of this figure, the one of many former Primes who had almost destroyed an entire world simply to get some energon. He had been stopped and imprisoned, where though was beyond Deadeye's current knowledge.

"He was imprisoned in the Omniverse…the place that flows between all parallel universes. For every choice we make, there are an infinite amount of parallel realities created that play out the infinite amount of other choices that could have been made. There is no possible way to cross between realities…yet…" Centurion paused, thinking this through.

Deadeye was beginning to tire of all this talk of parallel realities and the Omniverse but was strangely fascinated, even if all that Centurion was saying was going right past him.

"However, the dimension that flows between all realities is known as the Omniverse…The Fallen was imprisoned there for his crimes. That's where he met me."

"Hang on," Deadeye said, realizing that things were only beginning to make some sense. What Centurion was implying was absurd but he didn't seem the type to lie about this sort of thing. "How long were you in this 'Omniverse'?"

"About a hundred thousand years," Centurion replied bluntly, "perhaps more. I found myself stranded there after a failed experiment with the Omniversal energy, involving time travel. I came _after_ the Fallen but I was in the Omniverse _before _him. I had been attempting to unlock the secrets of the very force that runs through our universe. The energy of the Omniverse is what holds all realities together. It is also capable of bending reality itself, hence the possibilities of time travel."

"And you wanted to control it?" Deadeye asked, still unable to quite believe what he was hearing. "But you ended up stranded in the Omniverse as a result?"

Centurion nodded, somewhat glad that he was making some sense to the young and naïve Autobot. Deadeye was still sceptical, not too sure to actually believe Centurion or not. He knew that it was simply something that Centurion would eventually use as a tool to try and persuade him: the allure of the power to bend reality itself could be quite tempting, especially to someone as young and reckless as Deadeye.

"In my time in the Omniverse I met Unicron and he gave me the device that I now wear on my back," Centurion explained, "it is capable of harnessing the Omniversal energy that runs through our reality. However, it is only on a small scale."

"How did you escape the Omniverse?" Deadeye asked, "You said you met the Fallen?"

"I met him, and then I betrayed him," Centurion said proudly, "we decided to both work on a way to escape the Omniverse. Of course, we were both planning to betray each other. I left him stranded when we finally opened a portal back to our reality, thus ensuring that he would not get in the way of my plans.

"When I arrived back on Cybertron I knew I would need followers in order to ensure the success of my plan. I also knew I would need to remove potential rivals…"

"Such as Megatron?" Deadeye asked, able to see how this was all fitting together. It still sounded absurd but it was also beginning to make some sense…if only a little.

"Yes, but I'm afraid Megatron was able to defeat my first band of loyal followers," Centurion explained, "So I decided to simply go on with my original intentions. I have come to this world to seek something…something capable of helping me harness the energy of the Omniverse."

"Where is it?" Deadeye asked, growing impatient with all this talking. He was itching for a fight. Centurion seemed to be enjoying this lengthy conversation and was amused to hear this question from the young Autobot.

"The teleport took us both far off of my intended target," Centurion said, a frown crossing his features, "that's probably your fault since you damaged the device in your frenzied attack during the displacement field's activation. I was meant to arrive in the region the dominant species of this world call 'South America'. Instead, we have both arrived here, in this primitive settlement ravaged by war."

"But what is this device?" Deadeye asked, realizing that Centurion had probably told him enough already. The Decepticon seemed to have little issue with telling his whole plan, perhaps sure that he would either convince Deadeye to join him…or simply kill him.

"One of the last few inter-dimensional portals left behind by Unicron," Centurion replied, "the Fallen was also a servant of Unicron, as a matter of fact. He and I have some things in common…"

"Unicron?" Deadeye was already confused enough as it was without another odd name being thrown into the mix.

"The dark one, the one responsible for all chaos," Centurion said, a metal smile appearing on his features, "he is the one I serve."

"He's your God?"

"You could say that," Centurion replied, "he is the twin of Primus, but he is _greater_ than Primus."

Primus was the being that, according to legend, had created the All-spark and Cybertron. In fact, he was credited to having created the whole Cybertronian race.

"This portal will allow me to bring Unicron into this reality, releasing him from his prison outside of space and time," Centurion said, "and because of this he will grant me the powers I want. I will become his loyal servant and I will be able to destroy all who oppose me. I will serve him…"

"Let me get this straight: you've begun to harness an energy capable of bending reality and as a result you want to bring an utter megalomaniac out of his prison?" Deadeye couldn't help but smile, realizing that he was dealing with an absolute psychopath. Centurion was insane, that much was certain.

"That's about the gist of what I'm planning," Centurion replied, "the device I wear on my back is a mere asset. It will help me achieve my goal of bringing Unicron back into our universe."

Deadeye decided that enough was enough. He wasn't about to let some insane Decepticon carry out a plan that could mean the destruction of all life on this world and the destruction of any Cybertronian that defied Centurion and this "Unicron". No, Deadeye would be making sure that Centurion would never see this crazed plan of his through.

Perhaps it had been fate that had guided the young Autobot into this confrontation? He had arrived here by accident: at first he had been determined into finding a way home but now, after hearing of what Centurion planned on doing he was sure he had been sent here with the task of stopping the insane Decepticon. Fate must have had a hand in all of this; the young Autobot couldn't see any other reason why he would have been sent to this world with Centurion.

"I want you to join me in my cause, Deadeye," Centurion said, giving the equivalent of a smile with his metal features, "you and I will serve by Unicron and receive power beyond anything you could ever dream of…"

Deadeye wasn't at all tempted by such an offer. In fact, it repulsed him to think that he would even consider working with this lunatic Decepticon. Without any hesitation Deadeye's sidearm unpacked itself from his right forearm and he pointed it straight at Centurion. Before the Decepticon could react Deadeye had fired, the blast slamming right into Centurion's face.

There was a brief puff of fire and smoke from the front of Centurion's head as he stumbled back from the shot, his hands going for his face. He composed himself, removing his hands from his face only to reveal that he was perfectly intact. He looked towards Deadeye with a menacing metallic grin, one that implied that he was enjoying the look of astonishment that had crossed Deadeye's features.

There was a shimmer as the blue energy enveloped the Decepticon, creating a close-fitting shield. Deadeye shook off his immediate surprise and fired again and again, the shots simply glancing off of Centurion's shield as he approached. From one arm a long metal spear slid out and the Decepticon clutched it tightly in his grip as he started power-walking towards Deadeye, the look on his face making it obvious that he was about to enjoy ripping the young Autobot to pieces.

Another artillery shell slammed into a nearby building, sending stonework crashing onto the street below. Yet another landed near Deadeye, knocking him over as it exploded near his feet. Without any further delay Centurion lunged at him, the sharp point of the spear trained in his direction.

Within seconds Deadeye had put away his arm cannon and had brought out his sword, a long broad silver one that glinted in the sunlight. It came out just from under Deadeye's right wrist, its jagged edges giving it the dangerous appearance it deserved.

The young Autobot's melee combat training kicked in as Centurion brought his spear down upon Deadeye as he towered over the fallen Autobot. The Autobot raised his sword and deflected the spear, knocking it aside. Centurion quickly recovered, preparing to bring it down into the young Autobot's head. Deadeye only managed to roll out of its way as it plunged into the ground where his head had been only a split second before, the spear itself becoming lodged in the broken tarmac of the road.

Centurion pulled it free just as Deadeye rose back to his feet, lunging for the Decepticon. Both of them went flying into the front of a nearby house, crashing through the stonework and masonry which went falling about them. Deadeye found himself on top of Centurion but before he could do anything he shouted in pain, the shield that had enveloped the Decepticon seeming to burn away at the parts of him that were touching Centurion. Deadeye jumped up, recovering from the painful burns that had eaten away chunks from his arms and legs.

Centurion jumped up and onto his feet, a smug expression crossing his metallic features as he began to approach the wounded Autobot. Deadeye realized that maybe this fight was a little too much for him and so started to back away, trying to keep his composure as he brushed away the glowing blue energy that had clung to him from Centurion's shield. It was still eating away at him, albeit slowly and painfully.

"You don't stand a chance, Deadeye," Centurion said, noticing the look of pain etched on the young Autobot's features, "I am too powerful for you. Join me and together we can rule this wretched planet and serve Unicron…"

"No way," Deadeye replied bluntly, his left arm cannon unpacking itself from within his arm. He pointed it towards Centurion, firing again and again as the Decepticon began to approach him. Centurion only shrugged off each successive hit, his face a mix of amusement and annoyance.

Deadeye continued to back away until he stood in front of the ruined buildings that lined the river that ran through the city. Further down the street he could see George, running in the wake of their fight in order to get a better look. Perhaps Deadeye really did need that help from the human now, especially since it looked like Centurion would win this fight. As much as he hated to admit it, Deadeye knew that Centurion was too much for him to handle.

That didn't mean he couldn't try and beat him, though. Deadeye was prepared to do whatever it took to ensure Centurion never saw his crazy plan through and that meant ending it here and now.

"Join me, Deadeye," Centurion said as he approached, his spear clutched in his hands, "I'll make sure you have a place by my side, as my second-in-command…"

Deadeye replied by firing his cannon again and again, each shot detonating on the shield that enveloped the oncoming Decepticon. Centurion seemed to have gotten used to the sensation of getting shot, ignoring the blasts that hit him without even stumbling as he had done so earlier. Within seconds he swung with his spear but Deadeye deflected the blow with his sword, kicking Centurion in the stomach area. However, the shield that protected the Decepticon simply burned the young Autobot's foot.

It was obvious that even touching Decepticon would result in a rather nasty burn. Guns didn't have any effect on Centurion's shield so how was Deadeye supposed to win if he couldn't even touch his opponent without getting hurt?

Suddenly, there was a crackle of weapons fire from somewhere behind Centurion. A few shouts followed and Centurion slowly turned around, ignoring the projectile rounds that glanced off of his shield as he went to face the human that was standing about ten metres behind him. Deadeye could see it was George, figuring that the human had seen that the young Autobot had not been winning the fight. Of course, firing on Centurion was probably just going to annoy him.

"What's this?" Centurion asked mockingly. George stood his ground when faced by the thirty-five foot tall alien robot, continuing to fire his submachine gun.

"I'm your worst nightmare, ugly!" George shouted. Centurion didn't even give the human a moment's thought: within seconds his arm cannon was out and he blasted the ground near the human, sending him flying a short distance before he fell to the ground, motionless.

Deadeye saw the device on Centurion's back and seized this opportunity. Without giving Centurion a chance to counter his move Deadeye had lunged forward and grabbed the device with both hands, ignoring the energy that burned his hands. The pain was excruciating but Deadeye persevered, finding a hold on the device much to Centurion's anger.

Centurion managed an enraged roar but before he could turn around Deadeye had ripped the device clear of his armour. The device itself burned in his grip but still the young Autobot held onto it with his left hand whilst plunging the sword jutting from his right wrist into the Decepticon's back. Centurion roared as the sword cut into him, the energy that still somehow enveloped the Decepticon slowly eating away at the metal of the blade.

Suddenly, both robots were enveloped in a shimmering blue haze which seemed to be emanating from the device. Deadeye looked at it, stunned only for Centurion to turn around and grab him by the neck.

"You fool! You've activated a displacement field!" Centurion sounded angry, something that was understandable since he had just been stabbed in the back with a sword. He grabbed the long silver device from Deadeye, taking a quick glance at it.

"It's an unstable field," Centurion said, glaring at the young Autobot with some scorn, "You should never have touched the device, Deadeye."

Through the haze the landscape around them began to speed up, the daytime and night-time switching places thousands of times in the space of a few seconds. New buildings shot up in place of the damaged ones and humans milled by at superhuman speeds without even noticing the two alien robots trapped in the time displacement field. Centurion seemed to watch the acceleration of time around them with some curiosity before he thumbed a switch on the device and the field shut down. Deadeye was simply amazed at what was happening, not even realizing that the device had begun to glow a very bright and dangerous looking blue.

The exit from the time displacement field was not at all smooth. Both robots were knocked aside by a concussive wave of energy that the device sent forth and they both went flying into the stone wall that ran by the river. The wall crumbled as they slammed into it and both robots went falling into the river, followed by chunks of masonry. Stunned onlookers watched as the two large shapes landed in the river, both splashes being suitably large.

Deadeye found himself immersed in murky waters, most of his systems disabled. It would take time to repair the damage, he knew this much. However, he did see the device floating down near him and he reached out with one feeble hand, grabbing it. This happened seconds before all of his remaining systems shut down, sending him into a state of hibernation. The energy wave had suitably weakened him and so the Autobot was left to an uncertain fate in the Arnhem River…now over sixty years later.

* * *

George slowly rose to his feet, his body bruised and battered but otherwise he was alive. He remembered what had happened when he had fired on the evil alien robot, having watched as it had easily beaten up Deadeye.

He had listened to the conversation the two had had before they had started fighting, although he had missed out on much of the important stuff. The German artillery had been bombarding them at the time and George had been too concerned in looking out for himself than his unlikely new alien robot friend Deadeye.

Now, as he rose to his feet, he could see that both robots were gone. They had only just been there, standing toe-to-toe and trying to beat each other up. Now they had simply disappeared, a large black crater in their place. George stood pondering on what could have possibly happened, realizing that maybe it was way over his head. Everything that had happened today to do with the alien robot Deadeye and the other one, Centurion, had been way over the Major's head.

Brushing himself down, George looked thoughtfully at where both robots had stood only seconds before. Whatever had happened, they were both gone now. George was alone in the devastated war-torn streets of Arnhem, September 20th, 1944.

At least, he was alone for about a minute. A squad of German Panzergrenadiers came charging through an alley across the street and opened fire, George ducking as the bullets pounded into the ground near him. It seemed that the war wasn't over just yet, even if the Major had been given a slight detour from the ordinary.


	7. Breakaway

**Part II: Threads  
**"_He that will not apply new remedies must expect new evils; for time is the greatest innovator."  
_Francis Bacon

**

* * *

**

**Breakaway  
**NEST Headquarters, Diego Garcia  
December 13th, 2010

In a place like this it was either very hot and humid or damn cold. Today it was the former with the sun glaring down upon the tarmac runaway, light reflecting off of the metal roofs of the nearby hangars and other buildings. Above there was barely any cloud in the sky, furthering the fact that it would be a very hot day indeed. It was only about ten o'clock in the morning but already the temperature was getting a bit sweltering, not at all uncommon on a tropical island like this.

A group of soldiers marched by, on their morning exercise routine. The main operations hangar, which acted as a sort of command centre for the many operations of NEST, was located nearby. In the sweltering heat someone had been smart enough to leave the door open a little in order to air out the place. A hangar like that could become either very ht or very cold depending on the weather outside.

It was December and understandably people were getting a little tired of their work towards the end of the year, looking forward to getting some time off. There were those who would be working here over the Christmas holidays while others were back at home with their families and such: those people that stayed would be having their own little Christmas party. For the Autobots that more or less lived here though, they didn't celebrate the holiday season and so would stay here over the holidays themselves. Work for them never seemed to be over since there would always been some Decepticon somewhere on this planet trying to lay low until their leader returned.

Usually on a morning like this, Major William Lennox would be out either exercising or on the firing range. However, it had come to his attention that something had come up hence the reason why he was standing out on the runway, awaiting the arrival of someone in particular. The tarmac underfoot was hot and the air was sweltering but it was only a slight footnote to what he was here waiting for.

NEST was the top secret international taskforce that worked with the Autobots in order to eliminate any remaining Decepticons on Earth. The last major operation had been in Egypt last year and since then next to nothing had occurred. There had been the odd false alarm here and there but it seemed safe to say that the Decepticons had either left Earth or were doing a good job of hiding here. Either one suited Lennox fine since it meant that the Decepticons weren't causing any trouble. Of course, it could simply mean that they were planning something big and threatening to the whole of the human race. If this was the case, Lennox was certain they would eventually find out what.

There was a common belief around here that if there was a lack of proper action for several months then something big would happen at the most inopportune time to make up for the lull. So far that was yet to occur, implying that either it was going to happen or would never actually happen. It was worrying Lennox only slightly since he had been sure that, once the Fallen had been killed, the Decepticons would no longer try and pull anymore stunts here on Earth.

Lennox glanced at the digital watch he wore around his left wrist. Currently he was dressed in his standard NEST uniform which was more or less a Special Forces outfit with the insignia of Major upon it, the only difference being the arm-patch. This arm-patch didn't make it blatantly obvious who he was working for, with the words "If I told you, I'd have to kill you" woven into it. It was subtle but serious at the same time, two properties that described NEST's operations in the past year. Not only had they not been called in for a major operation since the battle in Egypt but it seemed that some of the President's advisors had taken note of the uselessness of NEST, deciding to start pushing for the whole organization to be closed down. Apparently NEST cost five billion US taxpayers dollars to run and that leaving a light on somewhere on Diego Garcia could add a few million onto this already insane price. Finance wasn't Lennox's strongpoint nor was it something he was particularly interested in: he left the finance to the people in NEST who were assigned to take care of that sort of thing.

Standing to the right of Lennox was Chief Master Sergeant Robert Epps, a sizeable African-American man who was perhaps one of the best friends Lennox had. Both of them had seen each other through thick and thin, having both been in NEST from the start and having served alongside each other prior to the creation of the secretive organization. Right now Epps was looking a little bored, using one sleeve to wipe away the sweat that was forming on his brow.

They weren't the only ones out on the runway this morning, waiting for the arrival of someone in particular. Standing only a little in front of them was Optimus Prime, standing tall and looking authoritative as he always did. Unlike some of the other Autobots, he had stayed with his alternate mode of a blue Peterbuilt truck from day one with flame decals and thus had elements of the vehicle on his very body. Even the truck doors were visible on his chest and the wheels down by his legs. Optimus was the leader of the small band of Autobots that worked with NEST and had, a few years prior, sent out a signal to space to alert other Autobots of their presence here on Earth. As a result several more Autobots had since arrived on Earth, becoming part of NEST and helping in humanity's quest to protect the Earth from the Decepticons.

Today it seemed that another was on their way, hence the reason why Lennox, Epps and Optimus were standing out in the heat. They were waiting for this new one's arrival, although it seemed that he was running late. Epps made this clear with what he said next, taking off his cap and wiping his bald head clean of sweat.

"Damn, I'm tired of all this waiting," Epps said, "it feels like I'm in a sauna while standing out here…"

Lennox didn't say anything although Optimus did manage a glance down at Epps. The Autobot had never been the type to put up with impatient complaints but even Lennox knew that this was beginning to take a while. They all had things to do rather than wait outside for someone who was running late.

"You know, I think your friend's late," Lennox said, glancing at his watch again to add emphasis onto this point, "didn't he say he would come at nine thirty? It's quarter past ten now…"

Optimus turned around, the sun glinting off of his metallic features. The glare did make him hard to make out against the sunlight and Lennox had to squint to get a good look at the Autobot's face.

"What did he say his name was again?" Lennox asked, unable to quite remember.

"Breakaway," Optimus replied simply, "he's an old friend of mine. He would make an excellent addition to NEST."

"Really?" Lennox didn't want to come off as sarcastic but he sounded like this anyway. "Sure, he might make a good addition…but did it ever occur to you that for the past year we haven't actually done anything? How much help will Breakaway be? There have been no Decepticon incursions, no Decepticons trying to destroy humanity. I think they've given up…"

"They would never give up," Optimus replied sternly, "As long as any of them are alive they will try and either destroy or enslave your race."

Lennox could see he had struck a sensitive chord in Optimus Prime but it was obvious the big Autobot was thinking along the same lines. As much as they hated to admit it, it did appear that the Decepticons had given up on Earth. Perhaps it just wasn't worth their time anymore, especially with the death of the Fallen and the disappearance of Megatron.

Optimus shook his head, the same sort of thought occurring to him. If the Decepticons had really given up then there was no point in them even operating NEST anymore. Of course, that would mean they would all be out of a job…Not a good thing, apparently.

"As long as Megatron is still alive he will continue to try and get his revenge on the people of Earth," Optimus said, "that is why we must keep NEST going. It's only a matter of time before Megatron decides to move against us again."

Lennox nodded. Optimus had a habit of making good points in an argument but they all knew the truth of the matter. The longer they went without actually doing anything the more hard-pressed they would become to keep their organization going. One day the President would see the lack of results that NEST was getting and decide to close it down himself.

"Tell that to the President," Epps interjected, his tone almost sarcastic, "I think he thinks we're just a waste of taxpayer money."

"Maybe we are?" Lennox suggested aloud, although the look he received from Optimus was enough to quell such a thought. They had things to do this morning and that didn't include discussing whether it was worth keeping this organization going or not. Lennox was sure something would happen soon, something that required them to go and save the day. He sort of missed such occurrences and was getting tired of all the false alarms they had gotten instead.

One notable false alarm had been an apparent Decepticon sighting in London. Everybody had gotten so worked up that not only had they closed down part of the city to the public but they had also cut the power to most of the city, infuriating the British. When it was discovered that there was no Decepticon anywhere in the city the British government had been rather annoyed with them, claiming that they weren't helping anyone.

It was up to an organization like NEST to respond to all intelligence seriously and efficiently. What could seem like a false alarm could in fact be the real thing, thus they had to be prepared regardless of how dodgy the situation seemed. As a result of this, NEST had the habit of causing unnecessary inconveniences to the governments of the countries they visited while following up on Decepticon sightings. In turn, NEST had become a bit of a laughing stock in the secret organizations community, having been responsible for plenty of collateral damage in the past and now unnecessary panic. Thus, the President's advisors were pressing their point to the President himself that maybe NEST wasn't of any use anymore. The Decepticon threat had passed; this was evident in the lack of action the organization had faced in the past year.

What more could another Autobot do? They already had plenty, from the original four including Optimus Prime down to the twins, Skids and Mudflap, and the three sisters who changed into motorcycles (although one of them had been killed in the battle in Egypt last year). They had plenty of Autobots here already: Lennox doubted just how useful another one would be.

The Autobot they were waiting for to arrive had contacted them the day before, having apparently spent a few days in orbit interfacing with a satellite in order to get information on the planet below. He had found out about NEST in this way, somewhat unnerving to think that a single alien robot could hack right into their satellite networks without getting noticed. Breakaway had been what this Autobot had called himself and he had designated this particular time as when he would arrive. For an alien robot with advanced technology, he was certainly running late.

A squad of marching soldiers went by, their leader getting them all to chant a typical marching song. Above, a pair of fighter jets zoomed overhead whilst on a standard practice flight. In all it was another ordinary day save for this one little development, a development that Lennox was beginning to think would never occur.

At that moment he became distinctly aware of the sound of a fighter jet's engines, not an uncommon thing to hear around here. He looked up towards the near cloudless sky, able to make out the faint shape of the jet as it began to head in from over the ocean. What struck him as off was how there were no scheduled jet arrivals at this time as far as he could remember, unless something had only just come up that he didn't know about.

He watched with some uncertainty as the jet headed straight for the runway at an alarming speed. Lennox exchanged looks with Epps and before they were done the Major was on his radio, contacting flight control here on the island.

"We have an incoming fighter jet," Lennox said, watching the oncoming aircraft with slight worry, "as far as I can tell it looks like it's going to make a rough landing. Is it one of ours?"

"_What fighter jet?"_ The reply from flight control certified that whatever the aircraft was, it wasn't exactly human in origin. _"We're not getting anything on our screens here."_

"I can see it," Lennox frowned, managing a look up at Optimus Prime. Surprisingly, the big Autobot looked somewhat relaxed when being faced with a potential threat. Lennox had encountered the Decepticon Starscream before and knew that this particular Decepticon could change into a fighter jet: why he would be here was beyond him. Unless, of course, it wasn't Starscream. This was made more evident by the fact that the jet hadn't opened fire.

"Don't worry about the jet, Major," Optimus said, glancing down at him. It was hard to read a face like Optimus' but from what Lennox could tell he seemed relaxed.

"Why?" Lennox switched off his radio, frowning. Epps was looking just as perplexed as he was, until the obvious dawned on him.

"It's gotta be him," Epps said suddenly as they watched the jet fly in low over the runway. By "him" Lennox assumed Epps meant Breakaway, the Autobot who was running late.

It rocketed overhead, leaving a deafening roar in its wake and blasting the trio with a sudden rush of air. People stopped to watch the strange jet as it flew to the other end of the island and turned around, heading in for another pass. The jet itself appeared to have some sort of light brown desert camouflage as a paintjob, Lennox recognizing the design as an F-35 fighter.

As it came closer the jet folded out of itself, forming the familiar looking form of a bipedal Autobot. This particular Autobot landed with a dull _thump_ upon the tarmac, leaving a few cracks and sending up a cloud of dust and dirt. There was no doubt that this was the Autobot Breakaway and he stood only slightly shorter than Optimus Prime. He looked wide and imposing, the jet's desert brown wings going from above and behind his shoulders while the cockpit canopy itself sat open on his front in order to allow his somewhat small head to come through. Parts of the jet fighter's fuselage comprised parts of the Autobot, with the tail fins standing above his head and the rear smaller wings at his elbows. In all, he was perhaps the widest and most imposing of the Autobots in residence here on Diego Garcia.

His bright blue eyes regarded the humans briefly before resting on Optimus Prime. Breakaway seemed to recognize Optimus and stepped towards him, stopping only a short distance in front of the fellow Autobot. Some of the other humans on and near the runway had stopped what they had been doing in order to watch the new arrival.

Lennox wasn't at all sure on what to think, something that had been the case for every other new arrival he had greeted since NEST had been formed. He exchanged glances with Epps who simply shrugged, thinking that these alien robots were never the types for subtle arrivals. Where Breakaway had found an F-35 jet to scan and take the form of, however, would remain a mystery.

"Optimus Prime," Breakaway said, his voice sounding like a cross between a deep masculine voice and a young African-American male, "it's been a long time."  
"Indeed it has, Breakaway," Optimus replied, regarding his old friend briefly, "is Cybertron the same as we left it?"

Lennox knew Cybertron was the home-world of the race the Autobots were part of, a planet ravaged by war and reduced to a lifeless hellish wasteland. He hadn't really heard much else about it, the Autobots he knew having since taken on Earth as their new home. With the All-spark gone it was apparently impossible to restore life to Cybertron.

"It is," Breakaway replied, somewhat solemnly. He paused, looking down at the two humans standing near Optimus. It was obvious he didn't think much of them from the expression that crossed his metallic features but then again it was hard to tell what a robot was thinking via its face.

Lennox decided to put away the uncertainties he had of this Autobot and stepped forward, introducing himself.

"I'm Major William Lennox," he said, looking up at Breakaway while managing a friendly smile, "and, well, uh…I would like to welcome you to Earth."

Breakaway took a moment to reply, as if still trying to form his first impression of the humans. From what Lennox could tell from the Autobot's face, this Breakaway guy didn't think very highly of them. This was understandable, seeing as Lennox was about six feet tall and Breakaway stood at almost twenty-five feet. Size, it seems, almost always did matter to some extent.

"I haven't heard much about you humans but I'm sure that Optimus will be able to tell me all about you and your race," Breakaway said, although he sounded a little disinterested. Lennox simply nodded; although he could tell that Breakaway would be one of the more troublesome Autobots. This was just a feeling he had, though.

"Well, I'm sure you and Optimus can go and share a…well, whatever it is you guys drink," Lennox said with some uncertainty, "but before that, we're going to have to brief you and register you with NEST. You're on our planet now and you're subject to our rules…"

"Of course, Lennox," Breakaway replied, interrupting the Major. Breakaway looked back towards Optimus, his interests in this conversation made obvious. He didn't have time for humans, especially when he could simply talk to an old friend of his.

"How long ago did you receive my signal, Breakaway?" Optimus asked, inadvertently changing the subject. Lennox had a feeling that he was a mere sidenote in this conversation and appropriately stepped out, turning to Epps as the pair started to walk back to the main operations hangar.

"Well, that was pointless," Epps said bluntly once they were some distance away from Breakaway and Optimus. Lennox simply shrugged, not too sure what to think.

"We stand in the sun, sweating our asses off only for this Breakaway guy to turn out to be an asshole," Epps continued, "I mean, just the way he looks at us…He thinks we're nothing!"

"I think Optimus can change his opinion on that," Lennox said. He didn't care much for what any of the alien robots thought of him or any other human: they were here, on Earth and as a result they would play by the rules the humans set out for them. It was obvious some of them didn't like that but Optimus was always able to bring them in line…Breakaway would be no different.

Outside the hangar, the Twins were arguing as they often did. Both were reasonably short Autobots, with Skids able to take the form of a bright green Chevrolet Beat while Mudflap took on the form of a red Chevrolet Trax. As a result their full robot forms were made up of sections of their vehicle forms, with wheels at their legs and car doors at their shoulders. Both of them were reasonably good at reconnaissance work but otherwise combat wasn't their specialty.

This particular argument seemed to be close to escalating into a physical fight, with Skids preparing to swing a punch at his brother. Lennox stopped nearby and rolled his eyes, thinking that maybe these two should at least try and get along for once.

"Don't hit him, Skids!" Lennox shouted suddenly, getting the attention of both Autobots. They stopped and turned around, doing their best to act as if nothing had happened.

"He called me a rust-bucket!" Skids said, pointing an accusing finger at Mudflap.

Mudflap simply shook his head in response.

"That's because you _are_ a rust-bucket," he said bluntly. Skids shot him a serious enough glare that shut him up. Lennox simply kept walking with Epps, figuring that the pair could beat each other up. Why he bothered trying to keep the two at peace was beyond him.

"What good is Breakaway going to do anyway?" Epps continued as they entered the main operations hangar. The pair stopped at the foot of the metal stairs that went up onto the platforms set up in the centre of the hangar.

"We haven't seen any action in months," Epps said, "another Autobot's just going to cramp things up."

The main operations hangar was the largest hangar on the base with enough room for all the Autobots to stand up inside it at once. This place was the control centre for NEST, all necessary systems set up on a series of platforms erected around the hangar. Computers of all shapes and sizes were on these platforms while technicians manned them and controlled all aspects of the organization's operations. It was at the main control area that the General could direct missions from here to anywhere else on the planet thanks to high-tech communications systems and millions of dollars worth of prototype equipment. It was all the highest tech the United States government had access to and it was all bought with taxpayers money.

"We could do with all the help we can get," Lennox said, turning to face his friend, "even if we don't really need it right now."

"Maybe," Epps replied, nodding but still looking a little doubtful. He was about to say something else when a familiar figure descended the stairs, stopping only a few feet away and saluting.

"I was just about to head out and look for you two," Captain Graham Winters said. He had a British accent, having been a member of the British SASF before he had been transferred to NEST early last year. He had seen action in Shanghai and Egypt since then and had gotten to know both Lennox and Epps reasonably well.

Lennox turned to the Captain, raising an eyebrow. Nothing came immediately to mind in regards to whatever it was Graham had been about to search for them and tell them, unless it was an offer to head down to the recreation centre and play some pool. That wasn't an uncommon offer from Graham and it was always an offer Lennox accepted.

This time around though, Graham was looking a little more serious than usual. He had always been the type to make the odd joke here and there, although now he was frowning which was somewhat uncharacteristic for him.

"What is it?" Lennox asked.

"The General wants us all in the briefing room within the next ten minutes," Graham replied, "something important has cropped up."

Lennox exchanged looks with Epps, both of them realizing that this was the sort of thing that usually presided before an important mission. It could be just another false alarm but NEST policy made it clear that every mission must be taken seriously and done according to correct operational protocol.

"Did he say what?" Epps asked.

"The General didn't say too much," Graham replied, "although he mentioned that it seems that the Dutch, of all people, may have found something."

The Dutch needed their help? Even with a hint like that it was pretty obvious that they would all be going on a trip halfway across the globe. Being in an international taskforce often meant that sort of thing would be a common occurrence, even for false alarms.

"The Dutch?" Even Epps sounded sceptical. "What? Are we going to Europe?"

"I think so," Graham said, not too sure about this himself.

* * *

Optimus Prime knew Breakaway from the war, having fought alongside the fellow Autobot on more than one occasion. It was somewhat relieving to see another of his fellow soldiers alive and well, although Optimus had noticed that Breakaway was a little more subdued than what he remembered him being.

The pair were still standing out on the runway, Lennox and Epps having since headed back into the main hangar. It was the perfect time for both Autobots to catch up, seeing as they weren't needed anywhere else at the time.

"I heard of the destruction of the All-spark," Breakaway continued, having recounted recent events on Cybertron. It seemed that their home-world had not changed in the slightest since Optimus' departure and it was very unlikely that it would ever change.

Optimus had since accepted Earth as his new home, as had all the other Autobots that were here on this planet. Cybertron would remain a dead world without the All-spark to power it and create new life.

"Where did you hear of that?" Optimus asked.

"Starscream returned to Cybertron after Megatron's death," Breakaway said, "he wanted to get followers in order to hold a revenge attack against the humans and you, Optimus. I simply heard of the All-spark's destruction by word of mouth."

"Are there other Autobots still on Cybertron?" Optimus knew that most of their kind had since left their dead home-world but if Breakaway had been there then maybe there were still other Autobots there. If so, they could come here, hence the reason Optimus had originally transmitted messages out to the stars in order to lead his fellow Autobots to Earth.

"There were a few and we were all planning to leave together when we received your signal," Breakaway gave the equivalent of a sigh and immediately Optimus sensed that there was something on the Autobot's mind, made evident by sullen demeanour.

"What happened?"

Breakaway thought about his answer for a moment, as if he didn't want to tell his friend. Optimus put a hand to his fellow Autobot's shoulder, realizing that there was probably a good reason why Breakaway had been the only one to make it to Earth.

"We were discovered by several of Starscream's Decepticon followers," Breakaway said, "I was the only one to make it off of Cybertron alive."

Optimus felt a pang of regret when he heard this. However, he was far too used to hearing of this sort of development, having gotten used to it in the war. Bad news was a common thing to hear during a war as devastating as the Autobots and Decepticons one.

"I can understand if you feel guilty about being the only survivor," Optimus said, "but you shouldn't blame yourself…"  
Breakaway shook his head, interrupting Optimus suddenly and abruptly.

"It's not that, Optimus," he said bluntly. He held out one hand, opening it and revealing that he was holding onto a small silver dome-shaped device. It was a holographic emitter, capable of storing recorded messages. Optimus was surprised to see such a device, not at all sure what it had to do with anything.

"This message, Optimus," Breakaway said, "it took several of this planet's orbits around its star to reach Cybertron. In fact, I think it took over sixty human years since it was so weak. I only received it recently, but what it contains…" He trailed off, although by now Optimus' curiosity was suitably raised.

"What is it?"

"It's Centurion," Breakaway said.

The name stirred up all sorts of unpleasant memories from the darkest and most forgotten depths of Optimus Prime's mind. That name carried with it the one loss he had never forgiven himself for: the loss of his only son, gone when Centurion had activated some sort of strange device that had enveloped both him and Optimus' son in a bright light. Within seconds both the Decepticon and young Autobot had gone.

Breakaway seemed to notice Optimus' change in mood and so activated the holographic messenger device which projected a shimmering transparent image of Centurion a few inches from its top. Centurion's form had changed from what Optimus had remembered, the Decepticon bearing some similarity to an armoured human vehicle known as a "tank".  
Seeing Centurion only angered Optimus, especially since he realized it was a message taken _after_ he had disappeared along with Deadeye, Optimus' only son. Centurion seemed to be speaking straight to the device, a fanatical light in his red eyes that Optimus could only interpret as madness.

"_I send this message to our home-world, although the signal is weak for the world I am on lacks the technology to amplify the signal. The teleport disabled my primary communications systems, hence I am using auxiliary." _Centurion was entering full stirring speech mode, swinging his personal spear around as he talked. He spoke as if addressing a ground, although there was no crowd in sight.

"_For millennia I have searched for a way to tap into the power that flows between all parallel realities,"_ Centurion continued, _"I send this message to alert my Decepticon brothers that I have finally mastered this power! With this power harnessed, we shall be able to crush all Autobot resistance! Not only that, but I have located the means to release our God from his prison."  
_Optimus frowned, trying to think of just what sort of "god" Centurion was referring to. It was obvious the Decepticon was well into madness so all that he could be saying could be just delusions…although something told Optimus that Centurion wasn't lying.

"_Trace this signal back to its source and we can enslave this world's primitive people and we can release the great Unicron from his prison!"_

Unicron. The name brought up vague legends and stories that Optimus had heard through his long lifetime, stories of a dark being, the very opposite of the creator Primus. Where Primus was all that was good and light, Unicron was the opposite: evil and dark. It seemed that Centurion was indeed mad if he was talking about some sort of god-like chaos bringer.

The message abruptly ended, Centurion's shrunken holographic visage disappearing. Breakaway put away the holographic messenger device, his metallic features wearing a grim expression. Optimus simply kept a straight face, trying to figure out just what Centurion had been planning all those years ago.

"That signal came from this planet, Optimus," Breakaway explained, "it's only taken time to reach Cybertron due to its weak low-frequency nature."

"That means Centurion's on Earth," Optimus said with realization. How come they had never picked up on this before? Perhaps Centurion had suffered a fate just like Megatron had on his arrival on Earth, although this seemed unlikely if Centurion had had the time to send a signal like this.

"Yes, but it seems a bit odd that he hasn't actually done anything since his arrival," Breakaway said.

"Then…if Centurion is here…" The thought was a definite long-shot, a vain hope, but it was plausible nonetheless. Centurion had mentioned a teleport: maybe that's what had happened back on Cybertron all those years ago. Maybe that's what had happened to Deadeye, his son.

"Yeah, I was thinking that," Breakaway said, breaking Optimus' train of thought. He could tell what Optimus was thinking and he couldn't help but give the equivalent of a smile. "That probably means Optimus Prime Junior's probably here as well."

"He prefers the name 'Deadeye'," Optimus corrected, keeping his calm. He knew it was only a vain hope, one that seemed unlikely. However, if that had indeed been a teleport that had activated and taken both Centurion and Deadeye away from Cybertron…

"Deadeye, huh?" Breakaway laughed. "Is he really that good a shot?"

* * *

**A/N:** Hence the beginning of one of several plts that will eventually intertwine. Don't be surprised if the next chapter has nothing to do with NEST, but they will play a major role in the story.  
The character of Breakaway is much like he is in the _Revenge of the Fallen_ video game and due to his lack of being in the movie I decided to put him in my story.


	8. Colonel Weller

**Colonel Weller  
**Somewhere in the New Mexico desert  
December 13th, 2010

In one of the least interesting areas of the mesa dotted landscape of New Mexico was an old mining town, one that had been left abandoned about forty years earlier. It was only a small town, with one main street and several different old-style wooden buildings with storefronts and a hotel or two.

On the dirt road into town lay the fallen over welcome sign that was now lying partially buried in the desert sand. The sign beared all that needed to be known about this town, even if it wasn't much information: MORGUE, Established 1877. Indeed, the town of Morgue had once been a bustling mining community until a chemical spill forty years ago had forced the locals to move out. Now the area was deserted, with the surrounding desert some of the most desolate in the state. Even the local wildlife seemed to avoid the town, as if they sensed that all was not right within it. The chemical spill that had occurred had contaminated the nearby lake and to this day it still remained undrinkable, hence the reason a separate water pipeline connected to another source had been set up by the new inhabitants of the little town called Morgue.

The town certainly looked deserted and an ordinary passer-by would have assumed this (not that there were many passers-by in this area) but there was one feature that implied that maybe the town wasn't so deserted after all. A relatively modern looking garage was positioned next to the hotel and had been made to look like it was simply another old building in the town but a keened-eyed person would have noticed that it was more recently erected than the other buildings. The garage door itself was closed, locked and accessible to only those with the remote to get in.

The boarded-up hotel next to it didn't seem at all abandoned on this particular day, made evident by the lone and bored looking guard who stood out on the front porch. He was dressed in a black and grey military uniform, a high-tech rifle slung around his shoulder as he patrolled the front of the hotel.

Unknown to the public and perhaps most of the United States government, the hotel itself had since become an above-ground base of operations of sorts for the secretive organization that had set itself up in the town of Morgue. Beneath the hotel was an underground facility the size of an aircraft carrier, although the only hint of its existence was the few air vents scattered throughout the town that filtered air in and out of the facility.

The hotel was the organization's first line of defence against any unwanted outsiders, home to about two dozen highly trained soldiers who could react to any unexpected situation that occurred within the town or the underground facility. The guard outside was only a precaution since today was an important day for the organization and so they could not afford to let anything go wrong.

The garage next to the hotel was in fact the entrance to the underground facility. Within the garage was a military-grade truck and an open-top Jeep, although beyond the two parked vehicles was a cleverly hidden metal door that was located behind a rack of rusty old tools. To enter, one had to tilt the correct three tools for the rack to open and reveal the short flight of steps leading downwards behind. The entrance to the underground facility was at the bottom of these steps, requiring a keycard and ordinary key to open. To get past this, one had to slide their keycard through the control pad by the door before inserting their assigned metal key into another section of the pad, twisting it appropriately in order for the door to open.

Beyond the door was a winding grey and mostly metal corridor that went off into a few different directions, with adjoining rooms running along its length. These first few top levels were merely offices and laboratories; the real important stuff was kept on the lower levels. Most of the lower levels was taken up by a large cavern, supported by metal pylons and was also the size of a large hangar. It was here that all operations were conducted and controlled while the boss surveyed from his nearby office.

This particular office sat in the side of the cavern, with windows that looked out upon it. A walkway and set of stairs lead to his door but the office refused few visitors since no one really dared to interrupt the boss when he was at work inside. Only a few people had the real privilege of being able to go in and out and they were only the most important people who were second to the leader of this operation.

The large hangar-like underground expanse was filled with all manner of high-tech computers and equipment. Large metal containers were stacked off to the sides, some bearing the logo of the United States Marine Corps while other bore the logo of the disbanded organization known only as "Sector Seven". In fact, this whole facility had once belonged to Sector Seven but ever since the organization was closed down it had fallen into the hands of another set of people, some having once been affiliated with Sector Seven. Now it was an independent operation, funded by a few rich benefactors within the US government. Some would say there was a whole conspiracy going on but no one in the public knew of this facility's existence so such a conspiracy would be left to the nuts who posted blogs on the internet about it. As far as anyone was concerned, this facility didn't exist and nor did the many people who worked in it.

Now one corner of the large hangar-like expanse had been reserved for a recent visitor, one that stood about twenty to twenty-five feet tall and was mostly metal. This visitor was being supported by several cables as scientists worked hard to put his two halves back together, having tried and failed numerous times. Resurrecting a dead Autobot was hard work but these scientists were using some of the most advanced technology available so it wasn't a matter of "if" but "when" they got him up and running again.

In the meantime, the leader of this whole operation sat in his office at the other end of the hangar-like cavern, sitting at his expensive mahogany desk while his stereo on the wall played Rolling Stones music. This man had close-cut military type hair that was going grey at the sides, stern looking blue eyes and ageing features that indicated he was perhaps in his mid fifties. He was dressed in a black and grey uniform similar to what the soldiers that worked at the facility wore, with the Sector Seven arm-patch and Colonel's insignia. This man was Colonel Francis Weller, long-time employee of Sector Seven who had almost gone out of work when the organization had been disbanded back in 2007. Of course, Weller was the determined type and so had ensured that he had stayed in work even when his very employers had been forced to pack up and go into early retirement.

For starters, Weller had worked at Hoover Dam on Project Iceman. He had been in charge of the troops stationed in the secret facility beneath the dam whenever Agent Simmons had been away (which had been most of the time) and Weller had accompanied the Autobots and the Special Forces people to Mission City. He had seen action against the Decepticons in that city and had helped in taking down one of them. Back then he had been the stern, business-minded sort of Colonel who always made sure to look out for his men and get the job done. However, when Sector Seven had been disbanded Weller had been one of several to protest, even if it had been the President's orders.

Sector Seven had been their first line of defence against the Decepticon invaders and had also been in the process of reverse-engineering the weapons systems from the then cryogenically frozen Megatron. Now with Megatron gone they had been forced to make-do with what they had. Not only that, but Weller had almost had a nervous breakdown from losing his life-long job. It wasn't until he was approached by some shadowy benefactors who offered him a lead position in a new operation that Weller had regained his confidence.

_If it wasn't for that punk kid Sam Witwicky,_ Weller thought, brooding over past events, _I'd still be in Sector Seven. I'd still have my damn proper job!_

Weller realized he was on the verge of another enraged tantrum and so reached over for the plastic container of anti-depressants that were lying on the desk, popping the cap and swallowing about half a dozen. Even with this new and well-paid position Weller was still prone to tantrums if things didn't go his own way. As an added measure Weller took the last slice of a BBQ chicken he had ordered the night before from the box in front of him, biting thoughtfully on the cold pizza. It still tasted fine, even if it was stone cold.

The operation that Weller lead here continued what Sector Seven had been doing, although at a much slower pace since they lacked the proper facilities that Sector Seven had once had at Hoover Dam. They were to research the Cybertronian race through whatever means possible, learning what they could about them while reverse-engineering their technology. Last year Weller had overlooked the construction of a prototype "rail gun" on board a US Navy destroyer, the first of many advanced weapons that Weller's organization had managed to reverse engineer from Cybertronian technology and construct. So far they were in the process of shrinking the rail gun principle into a small, portable size that could be carried as a primary weapon by any soldier into battle. They were close to completing their first batch of the weapons and Weller could only wait with anticipation of the first field tests.

For the past few days Weller had more or less kept to himself. It wasn't because he was depressed or anything, it was actually for a few different reasons. One was that he didn't want to interfere with what their scientists were doing in order to resurrect the dead Autobot and for another Weller had been preoccupied by a recent discovery, one that further implied that these Cybertronians had been to Earth in the past many times before.

Laid out on the desk were numerous photos of a recent discovery made outside of Maracaibo, in Venezuela. They were all photos of some sort of ancient alien construct found buried underground, accidentally stumbled upon by some workers in a quarry. Weller had ensured that such information had remained secret from any rival organizations, such as NEST, having used his powerful benefactors to ensure that such a find was not interfered with by anyone. Understandably the quarry in Venezuela had been closed down and the workers dismissed while those who had seen the alien construct had been conveniently disposed of.

Ever since the discovery of more ancient alien landmarks, Weller had begun thinking in overtime of just what they could do with such finds. No doubt a whole wealth of alien technology awaited them inside such alien constructs and no doubt such technology would help them in the fight against the Cybertronian race.

Weller had since changed his opinion on this whole Autobots vs. Decepticons thing as a result of some careful thinking on the subject. No longer did he see the Autobots as the good guys in this conflict. No, the only good guys were the humans for they were the ones with any reason to be fighting. The Autobots had brought this war to Earth and as a result they would pay, every single last one of them. The same went with the Decepticons. In fact, every member of the Cybertronian race that was on Earth would pay. They were an unwanted scourge upon this planet, one that had to be removed in order to guarantee humankind's survival.

With this recent discovery in Venezuela, Weller could assume that the odds of them removing this scourge had evened out considerably. All they needed was a way to access the alien ruins which did appear to be sealed from outside. Thus they were in the process of bringing a dead Autobot back to life, a process that was long and complicated. They needed to ensure that their existence was not discovered by NEST and thus they would need to use what they had, hence why they had been stuck with a dead Autobot and not a living one. All the living ones were with NEST and kidnapping one would only give Weller's group unwanted attention.

The Colonel sat back in his seat, thinking over how he would go about the upcoming interrogation. He knew exactly how he would speak to the Autobot, he just needed to devise a few questions. He needed information on the ruins and the technology that had been found in Venezuela. This Autobot would be their only source of information…and besides, it would satisfy Weller to see a member of the very race that had put humankind at risk in a vulnerable position.

Originally this particular Autobot had been kept in a typical government facility in order to be researched and contained, seeing as he had been more or less dead. However, thanks to Weller's benefactors in the US government he had been able to have the dead Autobot shipped to this location and so the long process had begun of researching and attempting to resurrect him.

With the research they learnt more of the enemy, of their weaknesses and their strengths. They had learnt much over the past few years, having found out about the self-repairing "life-spark" that powered all members of the Cybertronian race. Weller had been on the right track by ordering his researchers to find a way of simply "turning off" this life-spark and so far they were making progress in designing a weapon of simply turning off the very thing that kept these alien robots alive.

_They're just machines,_ Weller thought, _they have no souls, no emotions…They're not even "alive"._

Weller reached into a pocket on his vest, removing a small white carton of cigarettes. He took a single cigarette out of the packet, putting the rest away as he stuck this lone cigarette into his mouth and lit it. Sure, smoking wasn't healthy but Weller had been doing it for over thirty years and he was yet to suffer from any ill-effects. Maybe he was just lucky, something he attributed to the fact that he was in God's good books.

After a few puffs upon the cigarette, Weller sat back in his chair whilst reaching for his stereo's remote. The music was already getting old for him so he switched off the player with the remote, relaxing in the silence that had fallen upon his spacious office. Silence was as good a music as any and Weller took this chance to relax.

Much to his annoyance this brief reverie was interrupted by a knocking at his office door. Weller had made sure to close the blinds on the windows that looked out to the hangar-like cavern outside, effectively shutting himself from the outside world. He had needed time to think in order to plan his organization's next move, as well as a fitting name for themselves. He had already settled on "Sector Eight" but he realized that it wasn't as imaginative as he had been hoping.

The knocking happened again and Weller sat up straight in his seat, giving the impression that he was in the middle of work. He knew better than to ignore the first knock on his office door for the last two days, thinking that it could be news of their progress on their dead Autobot prisoner.

"Come in," Weller called and the door of his office swung open in response.

The figure beyond was dressed in a standard black-grey uniform but with the added addition of an armour vest, a pistol holstered at his waist. The insignia on his uniform indicated that he was Captain and Weller recognized the youngish face as Captain Xander Farnell. Farnell was about thirty-seven, with close-cropped light brown hair and well-chiselled features, the type that women seemed to like.

Farnell strode in casually, closing the door behind him in order to block out the noises of the main cavern outside. He turned to face the Colonel, a little hesitant to speak at first so Weller spoke before him.

"What is it, Captain?" The Colonel leaned forwards, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. He was hoping that this was important and not some trivial matter, otherwise he might just lose his cool with the Captain. Interruptions were something that Weller didn't like much, even if he hadn't been doing much in the first place.

Weller reached across his desk as he waited for the cool-headed Captain to speak, grabbing a warm white coffee mug with the words "WORLD'S GREATEST GRANDPA" printed on the front. Weller put the mug to his lips and sipped the lukewarm coffee inside, swallowing it down as he kept his gaze focused on Captain Farnell.

"Well, sir, we've finally made some progress on that dead Autobot," Farnell replied. Weller was interested now and so allowed the Captain to continue.

"Our researchers have perfected the right frequency on the harnessing device," Farnell continued, "they think, with another test that they can get him up and running…"

"Good," Weller said simply, sitting back. He dabbed out the end of his cigarette on the glass ashtray on the desk, adding to the already copious amounts of burnt tobacco inside the ashtray.

The so-called "harnessing device" was a rough term used to describe the prototype device that was capable of harnessing small amounts of the energy source known as "energon", hence the name. This was only a recently built prototype, reverse-engineered from the alien super-weapon uncovered in Egypt. It was able to create small amount of energon from sunlight and small amounts were all they needed. It was obvious that the dead Autobot's spark had been repairing itself over time, although it would take a few thousand years before any progress was made. With the harnessing device it was possible to accelerate this process. If the researchers were sure they had gotten the device to work properly then Weller wanted it to be tried out straight away on the dead Autobot without any delays.

"There's no time for tests," Weller said bluntly, rising to his feet and stretching his arms a little. He yawned, looking at the Captain whilst putting on his usual straight yet serious expression.

"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" Farnell sounded a little worried, aware of the implications of what a failed use of the harnessing device could have on their deceased Autobot captive. Get something wrong and they would kill him off for good. Weller, though, was quite confident that this wasn't going to happen.

"Are you questioning me, Captain?" Weller frowned, noticing the Captain falter slightly in how he was standing.

"No sir," Farnell said in response, swallowing nervously, "sorry sir."

Weller started towards the door, passing the Captain and pushing open the door before stepping out onto the walkway outside. He looked down at the several researchers and technicians that were milling about, shifting his gaze towards the reconstructed Autobot held up by thick wire cables over in the corner. The harnessing device was erected nearby, resembling a high-tech metal cannon on a wheeled platform that was currently pulsing with energy. It was hooked up to solar cells on the surface which were gathering the sunlight needed to power the device while several men in white lab-coats were working its controls.

They had no time to test it. A test would involve wasting a decent energy stream and being forced to wait the ten hours or so required to gather up enough solar power to use the device again. Weller had already waited long enough for results and they were only just scraping by when it came to time: their benefactors wanted results soon; otherwise they may cease funding the organization.

Weller started down the nearby set of steps that lead down onto the floor of the underground hangar, Captain Farnell following closely behind. The Colonel had always made sure that his men never questioned his orders, having cemented his reputation as a ruthless officer over the last few years of their operations here. Weller didn't like to waste his time with incompetent soldiers and so made sure that his men were only the best of the best and nothing less. Farnell was a reliable soldier; he just had a habit of asking the wrong questions at the wrong times.

Weller passed by a few patrolling guards who saluted him as he walked past. He nodded in acknowledgement but barely gave them a moment's notice, quite determined to get on with what he had been originally intent on doing. He stopped by the harnessing device, Farnell almost bumping into him from the sudden lack of motion. Weller ignored him as he looked towards the deceased Autobot. This particular Autobot was mostly a black and silver colour, bearing many noticeable car parts on him such as doors and wheels.

The Colonel carried with him a few of the photos taken of the ruins uncovered in Venezuela, just so he could see what the Autobot knew of the recent find. He had a feeling that the Autobot would know very little but there was always a chance and besides, he would make the perfect first proper test of the prototype harnessing device. Once they found a way to bring Cybertronians back from the dead then maybe they might be able to d the opposite and kill them.

Weller eyed the lead scientist, an ageing short man with balding grey hair. The lead scientist's name was Dr. Paulson and he was probably one of the less annoying intellectuals Weller had encountered. Paulson noticed the Colonel's arrival and turned away from the readouts he had been examining on the device, eyeing the Colonel with some curiosity.

"You're finally out of your office, Colonel," Paulson commented, "you're just in time for our next test…"

"No testing, doctor," Weller said bluntly. Paulson raised an eyebrow, not too sure about what the Colonel was implying. Weller thought he would elaborate a little.

"You're sure you've got it right?" Weller asked, "That the device is working to its full capacity?"

"Yes, but we should run some tests first…"

"Use it on the robot," Weller said, nodding towards the dead robot suspended on cables ahead. Paulson seemed at a loss for words but knew better than to argue with the Colonel.

Weller watched with some satisfaction as Paulson told his scientist buddies to get clear of the device as he began to key in a particular set of buttons. An unmistakable buzzing sound began to emit from the device as it charged up, lances of bright blue-white energy appearing along the length of its narrow gun-like barrel.

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Farnell asked from behind the Colonel. Weller simply rolled his eyes, having expected such a stupid question from the Captain. If the Colonel had not been sure about it he wouldn't have bothered to do it in the first place.

"Ask me another dumbass question and you'll be on latrine duty for a week," Weller replied without even managing a glance back at the Captain. The lack of an answer was enough to tell the Colonel that the message had gotten across.

The Autobot had been in two halves, torn from the waist as if someone had simply pulled on either end. It certainly wasn't a pleasant death but Weller guessed it didn't matter if it was pleasant or not, since the Autobot was dead and thus currently had no need to worry about how it had died. Apparently this Autobot called himself "Jazz", an utterly stupid name in Weller's opinion. Not only did these alien robots come to Earth and kill people and destroy landmarks but they did it all while giving themselves stupid sounding names.

Weller was confident that the energon harnessing device would work. It was all mostly alien technology they knew little about but enough time had been spent on research already. What they needed was _progress_ and Weller was confident he would get the progress he wanted.

With a sudden flash from the end of the device, a streak of pure blue-white energy shot out of the end. It lasted only about a second and hit the dead Autobot right in the chest, sending lances of the energy flowing across his body. On a closer look Weller could see that the scientists had done a good job of putting both halves of the Autobot back together.

The energy flowing across the dead Autobot subsided and there was a tense minute of absolute silence as Paulson and the scientists waited expectantly. Weller was quite sure it would work eventually, he was sure of it. Why wouldn't it work?

Suddenly the Autobot moved, jerking involuntarily as life returned. This sudden movement made the scientists and Captain Farnell jump back in fright a bit although Weller stood his ground, unfazed. He watched with absolutely no change in his straight expression as the Autobot known as Jazz awoke from what seemed like a very long sleep. It took Jazz a moment to take in his surroundings as his bright blue eyes lit up with new life. He saw the humans below and then realized he was bound by the cables attached to him, tugging at a few to test their strength and finding that they were more than enough to keep him in place.

Jazz looked down at the humans, his bemused metallic expression communicating the fact that he had no idea where he was and why he was tied up. He spoke in what sounded like a typical African-American "gangster" voice.

_Not only do these robots have stupid names but they've taken on nearly racist personas,_ Weller thought, shaking his head. What was the world coming to?

"Where the hell am I?" Jazz demanded, "And why am I tied up?" He looked down at Weller, his metallic features forming what looked to be a frown. "Who the hell are you people?"

Without any sign of hesitation Weller replied, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice.

"I'm Colonel Francis Weller," he said, holding up one of the photos, "a recent discovery was made in South America and I was wondering if you had any idea about it. I know you can zoom in with those fancy eyes of yours, so maybe you should zoom in on this photo…"

"I don't know any of you people!" Jazz exclaimed, struggling against the cables that held him. By now a few soldiers had arrived, training their rifles in his direction as a precaution. Somehow Weller doubted regular bullets would have much of an effect on him.

"We just brought you back from the dead, Jazz," Weller said, "you should be grateful to us. As a return gesture, you should answer my questions…"

"Where's Optimus? And Bumblebee?" Jazz demanded, beginning to sound increasingly annoyed, "I can't even remember getting here! The last thing I remember was Megatron…and…" He trailed off, realizing just what had happened.

"You were dead, Jazz," Weller said, realizing that getting straight to business probably wasn't going to work out, especially with someone who had just been brought back from the dead. Maybe easing the Autobot into the conversation would work out better, although Weller knew that he was wasting enough time as it was. He needed answers, preferably now.

"Tell me about what's in the photos," Weller said, holding another one of them up with his other hand, "and don't delay. I have a schedule to stick to."

Jazz seemed to look at the pictures that Weller was holding up, putting some thought into what was in them. They were photos of the alien ruins uncovered outside Maracaibo, in Venezuela and several of the images had been enhanced to highlight certain things.

"Just tell me about the photos!" Weller demanded, losing his patience. "We found yet another of your race's artefacts on our world and I would like to know what it is. That's why I brought you back from the dead. Does this all make sense to you?" Weller leaned forward, expecting an answer.

"Then why I am tied up?" Jazz said, pulling on one of the cables. Each cable was connected to a point in the rock wall so there was little chance Jazz would be able to break free. Regardless, Weller stepped over to the harnessing device and started to punch in a few certain buttons much to Dr. Paulson's surprise.

"What are you doing, Colonel?" Paulson asked, aghast, "there's barely enough charge to activate it again…"

"I don't need much," Weller said, turning back to face Jazz. He was already getting fed up with the lack of progress, realizing that maybe resurrecting Jazz probably hadn't been such a good idea.

"Tell me about the ruins in these photos," Weller demanded, "and then maybe I'll think about releasing you."

Jazz considered this for a moment, doubt appearing on his metallic features for a moment. Weller awaited the Autobot's response, growing more and more impatient with each passing moment. The harnessing device was only just charging up but Weller had set it up so that he didn't need much charge. He simply wanted to give Jazz a little "encouragement".

"I don't know what it is," Jazz finally answered, "it's older than anything I've ever seen…Probably Decepticon in origin…"

"You're…not…helping…" Weller could feel the rage building up inside of him, literally seething with anger. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he attempted to calm himself down. He hated having to speak to a damn robot…it felt insulting, to say the least.

Without even a moment's thought Weller flicked a switch on the harnessing device's control panel and a brief lance of energy shot forth, hitting the Autobot square in the chest. The energy lasted only a split second but it was more than enough to send painful jolts flowing through Jazz. Weller was all the more satisfied with the shouts the Autobot emitted and the metallic sounding groans that followed, as if the pain caused was excruciating. It seemed that Weller had just discovered an effective form of shock treatment.

Weller chuckled as he watched Jazz barely recover from the shock, ignoring the glances the scientists standing nearby threw at him. It was fun to have one of these robot bastards in a defenceless position and at his complete mercy. It felt…good.

"You better start telling me what I want to hear," Weller said, "or I shock you again, but double the strength of the last one…"

"You'll kill him!" Paulson exclaimed but the Colonel shot the scientist a stern look, one that told the doctor to shut up. He obeyed.

Jazz shook his head, as if trying to shake off the pain that had almost paralysed him. He looked down at Weller, contempt on his metallic features as he considered his options. Weller could see the conflict within the Autobot as he tried to figure out his best course of action.

"I told you, I don't know…" Jazz sounded weak, as if his newly re-sparked life was already beginning to diminish.

"Wrong answer," Weller said, pressing a button and flicking a switch on the control panel. Another lance of energy shot forth from the device, hitting Jazz square in the chest. Immediately the Autobot began to writhe in agony as the energy coursed through him, pained metallic groans and screams coming from within. Weller watched on with absolute awe while the scientists simply watched with horror as the Autobot suffered a slow and painful death. It was perhaps worse than the one he had suffered previously, at the hands of Megatron.

Finally Jazz was still, sizzling from the high temperature of the shock. Weller tucked away the photos and simply turned away from the dead Autobot, thinking of what he should do next. He looked towards the stunned Captain Farnell.

"Captain," Weller said, getting Farnell's attention, "I want our friend here thrown out. Salvage what we can from him before burying him in the desert."  
Farnell nodded, still stunned from all that had just happened. Weller couldn't see why everyone was so flabbergasted, figuring that Jazz had only been a robot. Who cared if a robot lived or died? They were simply machines, after all, and machines had no souls.

Weller had a soul; a soul that he knew would be going straight to heaven the moment he died. He was on a mission from God, he was sure of it: he was going to save humanity from this race of alien robots and he was going to enjoy doing it. Today was simply another step on the road to that ultimate goal: complete removal of the Cybertronian race from Earth.

That's when a man in a Corporal's uniform approached, managing a glance at the dead Autobot as he stepped towards the Colonel. Weller recognized him as the young and blonde-haired Corporal Houser, a reliable soldier who had recently been transferred from the Special Forces.

"Sir," the Corporal announced.

"Yes?" Weller had forgotten about Jazz already, having taken a "business as usual" stance.

"We just received news from one of our men in Europe," Corporal Houser replied.

"Europe?" Weller raised an eyebrow. What could be happening in Europe that was so important? Sure, they had spies all across the world but Europe had been the last place Weller had been expecting to hear anything from.

"Yes sir," the Corporal said, "it seems something's come up in Holland. Something important."

"What kind of important?"

The Corporal paused for a moment, thinking about this.

"They think someone's found another alien robot, sir," the Corporal replied.

Weller took a deep breath, realizing what this could mean. Another alien robot meant another source of information for their organization.

"Whereabouts?" Weller asked, determined to find out more.

"Holland."

* * *

**A/N:** I always wndered whatever happened to the other folks in Sector 7, seeing as it got disbanded. Maybe there are some people in the government who see the Cybertronians on Earth as a problem to be dealt with (regardless of whether they're Autobot or Decepticon). Thus, I came up with the alien technology reverse-engineering, somewhat rogue "end justifies the means" organization of Sector 8, lead by the somewhat unstable Colonel Weller.


	9. Tranquility

**Tranquility  
**December 13th, 2010  
Tranquility, Nevada

The town of Tranquility, in Nevada, was a typical American suburban town located towards the southern end of the state. Outside of Tranquility the area was mostly desert with long highways that criss-crossed it, giving the impression that Tranquility was strangely remote from the rest of the world.

With a name like 'Tranquility' one would expect the town to be the perfect place to set up the typical American dream, with the nice houses and expensive cars that most people here had. Tranquility was perhaps too perfect for its own good since nothing ever happened here. The people here were all so content with their surroundings, as if they had known nothing better. In most cases they _hadn't_ known anything better since they may have been in Tranquility for all of their lives.

Jones Marshall was twenty-two and African-American, with stubble growing on and around his chin. He hadn't shaved for a few days now, mainly because he couldn't be bothered. Currently he was dressed in the uniform he had to wear whenever he went to work at Carlson's Supermarket, a small but reasonably well-doing establishment close to the centre of town where most of the shops and restaurants were located. The uniform consisted of a light blue shirt with dark pants and currently the pants were tight around his waist, providing a mostly uncomfortable feeling at that particular area.

Jones had been living in this town all of his life and was still stuck in the same house as his mother. His father had left years to do some charity work in Africa and as a result barely heard from him, thus leaving his mother to look after him and the house. The only indication they received that indicated that his father was still alive and could still remember them was the money they were sent in the mail from Africa every now and then. It was usually enough to keep the family home together but Jones still had to go to work and bring some more into the house.

For the last few years Jones had been trying his best in order to find a better job and way out of living with his increasingly annoying mother. Thing is, Jones hadn't gone to college because of how he had to bring money into the house from his crappy job at Carlson's Supermarket. In fact, they couldn't afford to send him to college or any other fancy establishment like one and so it seemed that Jones was destined to remain stuck in this town, living with his mother and working at a supermarket.

Of course, Jones was determined to escape his monotonous life here. One day, he promised himself, he would leave and he would get a better job somewhere, wherever that was. He would even go to college and get a degree or something, whatever was necessary in order to get him out of this perfect town and into the outside world. Numerous times he had made it blatantly clear to his mother what he was planning on doing but of course his mother was sceptical and was quite sure it would never happen and that if it ever did it wouldn't happen for years. Jones preferred to think otherwise, though.

Now Jones was facing another six hour shift at the supermarket, earning a meagre amount of pay per hour. He could work overtime if he wanted to but the extra pay probably wasn't worth the extra effort. After all, it was a job at a supermarket: all he did was put things on shelves, scan items at the counter and pack people's shopping bags. It was almost insulting to think that he, Jones Marshall, once top of the class at high school had been reduced to working in a damn supermarket. It hurt whenever he thought about it; hence he preferred to keep his mind on other things.

It was Monday and only a week and a half before Christmas. Unsurprisingly, he would be working over the Christmas holidays thanks to pressure from his mother to bring in much needed cash into their home. They were doing well enough to actually stay in their house and afford all the little luxuries, but it wasn't enough to please his mother. In fact, it seemed that his mother was using him to simply bring more money into the house. Most of this money she spent on herself, leaving Jones to do all the necessary shopping such as for groceries and other supplies. In fact, Jones even had to pay the bills, something that further indicated that his mother had simply ceased caring anymore.

Jones had since reached the conclusion that his life sucked and that he wouldn't be able to find a way out of it for a long time. He was determined to leave this town and see the rest of the country he lived in but until he had enough money to do that he would be stuck here, stuck working in the same old supermarket with the same bunch of annoying co-workers earning the same meagre pay.

Every Monday was hard, since the weekend break had finished and he always stayed up late on Sunday night. Last night it had been because of he had stayed up in order to watch a bunch of DVDs, most of them Steven Seagal movies. Most weekends Jones spent with friends or simply watching television, although he did occasionally do some necessary grocery shopping on either Saturday or Sunday, whenever it was needed.

Jones sat on a seat towards the rear of the bus, feeling it trundle along underneath him. This morning was quite warm and so the bus driver had been intelligent enough to turn the air conditioner on which helped slightly. Sitting in the seat behind Jones was a fellow co-worker, a guy about his age named Richard. As usual, the dark haired Richard hadn't ceased talking to Jones ever since he had gotten on the bus. Jones was barely listening, only pretending to be interested as Richard went on about all sorts of crap that Jones cared little about.

"…so last week, I saw the same two guys again patrolling my street," Richard continued, "they were trying to look inconspicuous but were doing a terrible job of it. These two suited guys, they had Geiger counters with them. Can you believe that? _Geiger counters_. And guess what they were doing with the Geiger counters…"  
Jones barely managed a glance at his co-worker, simply nodding his head and asking the obvious question. Richard had always been one for this conspiracy nonsense and was constantly pestering Jones about it, believing that he cared.

"What were they doing with the Geiger counters?" Jones asked, sighing.

"They were taking readings from cars, man," Richard said, "_cars_. Can you believe that? They were taking readings from the cars people had parked in their drive ways and out on the street. I tell you, it was damned suspicious."

"I bet it was," Jones said, yawning. He gazed out of the window briefly, recognizing the street and realizing that they were about to arrive at their stop. Jones was tired of catching the bus, if only because of Richard's annoying rambling about conspiracy theories and strange events. Tranquility was a dull town, nothing interesting ever happened here even if Richard seemed to believe otherwise.

"Yeah, they even took a reading from my dad's car!" Richard exclaimed, as if excited by the thought, "seriously, why would they be doing that? As if cars are radioactive…"

"Everything's radioactive to an extent," Jones replied as the bus pulled to a stop by the side of the road. He stood up, Richard following suit as he continued his excited ranting.

"Yeah, but really…You have to think about what this could mean. Cars, of all things? Do you really think two government types would be wasting their time on taking readings from _cars_?"

The doors of the bus slid open and Jones stepped out into the warm air outside, almost bumping into a few pedestrians. He stepped onto the sidewalk, working out where he was. He had taken this same route so many times in the past so it was only second nature when he turned to the right and started walking for the supermarket located on the corner up ahead. Richard followed, jogging to catch up with the briskly strolling Jones.

"Do you know what this means, man?" Richard asked, slowing to a walk beside Jones.

"What does it mean?" Jones rolled his eyes, expecting an absolutely stupid answer.

"It means there's some sort of conspiracy's going on," Richard replied, "something to do with cars. The way they were taking readings, you would think that they were looking for something…"

"Looking for what?" Jones asked. Above, the sky was mostly cloudless and the sun was beating down upon the pavement. It was only ten o'clock in the morning and already it was stinking hot, probably all thanks to global warming. Jones was already beginning to feel a bit hot and uncomfortable, thus heading into the supermarket's moderately air conditioned comfort seemed like a good thing to do.

"I don't know…maybe aliens, like in that movie…" Richard thought about this for a moment. "You know, like that movie that had the car with the radioactive stuff in its trunk? And whoever opened the trunk would get vaporized?"

Jones stopped, trying to remember if he had seen this movie. He had seen a lot of movies, but one with radioactive materials stored in the trunk didn't come immediately to mind. Either he hadn't seen it or he couldn't remember seeing it.

"I've forgotten what it was called…" Richard trailed off, shrugging. "I can remember there being government agents in it though."

"And you think these two guys are government agents?" Jones shook his head, unable to believe he was having this conversation. He glanced at the digital watch he has wearing around his left wrist, seeing that he was about five minutes late to the start of his shift.

"Maybe they're just two guys with nothing better to do?" Jones asked, starting walking again. Richard followed, sounding a little flustered at Jones' absolute lack of genuine interest.

"I'm telling you man, there's something going on in this town," Richard said, "the government's looking for something. What, I don't know."

"No self-respecting government agent would bother with our piece of shit town," Jones said matter-of-factly. He was quite adamant on his stance that Tranquility was an insignificant town, one where absolutely nothing interesting occurred. As he had decided years ago, Tranquility was a perfect town for the family looking to set up their own typical American dream. There was barely any crime in this town and there sure as hell weren't any government agents wandering around either.

Jones stepped up to the front entrance of Carlson's Supermarket, the glass automatic dors sliding open in front of him. Beyond was the air conditioned interior of a typical moderately sized supermarket, with checkouts and aisles of goods. As soon as Jones set foot inside, the owner, Thomas Carlson, approached him.

Carlson was a middle-aged man short of statue and sort of fat, currently wearing a pink short-sleeve shirt and light blue jeans. He looked at his watch and then at Jones, shaking his head.

"You're five minutes late," he announced, some scorn evident in his voice.

Richard walked in from behind Jones and managed a smile, always the ne to suck up.

"Good morning Mr. Carlson," Richard said, "how was your weekend?"

Carlson seemed uninterested, simply regarding both employees with a condescending look. Jones had been forced to work under this guy for the last seven years and had gotten used to all that Carlson had a habit of doing, such as acting like a complete jerk to some of his employees while treating others nicely. He was certainly the one to play favourites and tended to like his female employees more than he did his male ones. The funny thing was, Carlson was married and had about four kids. On more than one occasion Jones had overhead Carlson mumbling to himself about how much his life sucked and how much of a bitch his wife was.

"I had to work," Carlson replied sternly, "and by work I don't mean sit on my ass and play computer games like you two do…"  
Jones wanted to correct him in this regard since he didn't actually play many computer games but he realized there wasn't much point. Carlson was quite certain that both Jones and Richard were absolute slackers and seemed to treat them as such.

There was a short pause as Carlson thought of what to get the two employees to do. Jones could tell that his employer wasn't in a good mood judging by his overall demeanour and so was looking forward to another "good" day at work.

"How's the wife and kids?" Jones asked, deciding to start up a conversation. He noticed the look of distaste cross his boss's face but Carlson soon composed himself.

"Fine," he lied, "now head round back and get our latest shipment of newspapers and magazines. You've both got things to stack away."

Carlson turned around headed back to whatever it was he had been doing before, leaving Jones and Richard to begin their shift.

Jones simply shook his head, already fed up with his day at work and he was only about ten minutes through it. He started to the staff-only rear entrance which leads out into the loading and unloading garage where supplies arrived at the supermarket. Richard followed him and the pair began the daily routine of picking up newly delivered boxes of supplies and heading off to stack them in their appropriate areas within the supermarket.

Most of the food had already been put in the supermarket by other employees, leaving only the newspapers and magazines. Jones took a whole box full of copies of Tranquility's main local newspaper, heading into the supermarket and parking himself near the appropriate stands. It was a routine he had gotten used to over the last seven years and it was always the same. The only bonus in this particular exercise was that he could read newspapers and magazines for free, just as long as his boss didn't catch him wasting time reading.

Today just seemed to be turning into one of those days where he found himself in an outright bad mood. He was annoyed at the whole world in general, made evident in the haphazard way he was stacking the newspapers and magazines he was unpacking from their appropriate boxes.

When he was done with his lot of boxes he started flicking through one of the local newspapers which in itself was an exercise in futility since there was barely anything interesting in it. However, he was always keeping an eye in the classifieds section just in case there were any better jobs on offer that he had a chance of getting which were better than his current occupation. He didn't want to work in a supermarket for all of his life, he was sure of that.

Flicking through the newspaper, something red caught Jones' eye. He stopped at the appropriate page, chancing upon a flashy advertisement about some sort of Christmas competition. It was showing off some flashy red sports car that was on offer as one of the top prizes, although judging by the advertisement the odds of anyone winning looked pretty low. Of course, Jones had nothing to lose and simply memorized the phone number needed to call to enter the dodgy looking competition. Winning a new car would certainly make his day.

Suddenly, he became aware of a presence behind him since a shadow was cast over the newspaper he held in his hands. Closing it and putting it on the stack with the others, he turned around and came face-to-face with an annoyed looking Carlson. He thrust a cardboard box full of soda cans into Jones' arms, frowning as he did so.

"I don't pay you to read, Jonesy!" He exclaimed, using the nickname that annoyed Jones the most, "since you're not doing anything productive, take these cans and add them to the stack over there." Carlson nodded towards the stack of soft drink cans at the end of one of the nearby aisles.

Jones took the box of soda cans, trying his best to keep his cool. He had the urge to simply punch Carlson in the face but decided against it. Carlson seemed the type who would go and tell the police and press assault charges and the last thing Jones needed was to get fined. He was already short on money.

"Right away, Mr. Carlson," Jones replied in a controlled monotone, turning away from his disgruntled boss and starting towards the stack of cans ahead. Robert stood near them with a sticker machine gripped in one hand, using it to apply barcode stickers to each of the generic soft drink cans. He looked up as Jones approached, looking ready to start rambling on about conspiracy theories again.

"You know, I read on the Internet that there was a cover-up in Egypt just last year," Richard said. Jones rolled his eyes as he set the box of soda cans down and opened the top, pulling out a can with each hand and carefully adding it to the pyramid-shaped stack.

"Oh yeah?" Jones asked, barely sounding interested. He heard the front entrance slide open, managing a quick glance over to it and watching as a moustached police officer calmly walked inside. He stopped nearby, looking at the selection of confectionery on offer on this particular set of shelves.

"Yeah," Richard said, unable to notice that Jones was barely interested, "they said it was a terrorist attack…"

"What was a terrorist attack?" Jones placed another two cans onto the stack, making sure it was stable. The police officer, who was in full uniform and even had a pistol holstered at his waist, was carefully examining the packets of chewing gum on offer.

"You didn't hear about the attacks on Egypt?" Richard asked, as if this was some sort of fact that everyone should know about. Jones didn't reply, mainly because he wasn't in the mood to talk about conspiracies. Richard took his friend's lack of response as an excuse to keep talking.

"Apparently some terrorists simply blew the crap out of one of the pyramids and some nearby ruins," Richard continued, "all to kill a bunch of tourists."

"Really?" Jones was barely listening. Instead, he watched through the corner of his eye as Carlson approached the police officer. The two seemed to know each other and started having a lively conversation, Carlson lacking the asshole-like tendencies he had towards either Jones or Richard.

"It's all a cover-up, of course," Richard said proudly, almost as if he knew for certain, "I've been reading up about it lately. Some people think it had something to do with aliens…"

"Uh-huh." Jones' attention was brought towards Carlson as his boss tapped him on the shoulder.

"Jonesy, I don't pay you to talk," Carlson said bluntly. His police officer friend stood to his right, noticeably chewing on gum.

"Tell that to Richard," Jones replied, attempting to get back to stacking the cans only for Carlson to grab his shoulder.

"I'm talking to you, Jonesy," Carlson said, his eyes staring into Jones'. Jones broke the stare, annoyed at how much of an ass his boss was being. He glanced over at the cop who seemed to be watching this all while wearing a smug grin. Was everybody in this town an asshole?

"Don't touch me," Jones said bluntly, managing to control the rage he could feel slowly building up inside of him. Seven years of having to put up with a prick of a boss could do that to someone even as mild-mannered and easy going as Jones Marshall.

"Don't talk back to me," Carlson said, releasing Jones' shoulder and pointing an accusing finger at his annoyed employee, "I have enough things to deal with without having to put up with your smart-mouthed back talk."

Jones rolled his eyes and simply swung with his left arm, knocking aside the stack of soda cans next to him. Cans of soft drink went clattering onto the floor and Richard emitted a surprised gasp. Carlson stepped back, looking surprised at this development as if he hadn't been at all expecting it. The cop looked ready to go for his sidearm but even Jones knew that would be a dumb thing to do.

"I've had enough of this shit," Jones said, finally welling up the courage to talk to the one who had been oppressing him for the last seven years, "I only work here for the crappy pay, not so you can treat me like dirt. Hell, one day I'm going to actually amount to something more than just being a supermarket employee." Jones reached up and ripped his name badge off of his uniform, throwing it to the floor before crushing the flimsy plastic badge underneath one foot for good measure.

"Calm down sonny," the cop said, one hand going for his sidearm, "I am licensed to use my weapon…"

Jones shook his head at the cop's stupidity and pushed past him as well as Carlson, storming out of the front of the supermarket. Richard simply remained where he was, looking surprised at what had just happened.

An overwhelming feeling of satisfaction overcame Jones, causing him to smile proudly as he stepped outside. How he was going to break the news to his mother that he had lost his job didn't worry him at the moment. Instead, he was finally free of the burden of working under an asshole of a boss at a damn supermarket, of all places. Jones started humming to himself, walking with a newfound energy that could only be explained by what he had just done. He would start anew, which meant finding a new job, preferably outside of this damn town.

Jones stopped at the corner and took a deep breath of the mostly clean air, although there were traces of petrol fumes. Without any hesitation he started for the nearest vending machine, suddenly having the craving for a coke.

Today was the start of a new phase of Jones' life, one he would make sure he did right this time. He would need money, far more than he already had. Not only that but he would need to find a decent enough job, one that could keep him funded as he went through college to get a proper education. With education came good job opportunities, something he knew only too well but didn't have the resources to actually go about and do.

He doubted his mother would be too happy but he figured that they would be alright for a while, just as long as his father kept sending them money from the work he was doing over in Africa. If that stopped then the money into the family home stopped, a thought that was certainly frightening since it meant that sooner or later they would be forced out of their home.

Jones was determined that this wouldn't happen, although he realized that spending money on unnecessary items would have to decrease. That meant he would have to somehow convince his mother to stop buying stuff she wanted and concentrate on things they actually needed.

He stopped in front of the vending machine, depositing the few necessary coins into the slot and pressing the button for a coke. For some reason, the can didn't come tumbling out of the machine and so Jones tried again.

With his upbeat mood broken, Jones pressed the button that was supposed to return the money he had just put in the machine. For some reason it didn't work either. Angry, he kicked the vending machine which resounded with a dull _thump!_ A few curious pedestrians nearby glanced at him but otherwise didn't react, continuing along with their minds focused on their own business.

"Damn it!" Jones shouted, kicking the machine again and hurting his foot. As if it was some sort of act of divine intervention, a dull set of clunking sounded from within the machine and not one…but TWO cans of coke trundled out. Jones stared in surprise for a moment, realizing that he had just bought two for the price of one. He carefully reached into the machine's chute and pulled both refrigerated cans out, a smile slowly creeping across his face.

Maybe today would be a good day after all.

* * *

**A/N:** A bit of an odd chapter, but Jones will return later on and will have a major part to play in things. This is merely his introductory chapter, a sort of beginning to his particular role in the grand scheme of things. The next chapter focuses on Breakaway again, though.


	10. Chromia

**Chromia  
**Diego Garcia  
December 13th, 2010

The midday sun beat down upon the island of Diego Garcia, the absence of clouds allowing the full extent of the tropical heat to reach the ground. Sure, it should have been winter but in a place like Diego Garcia it was usually just the one sort of weather all the time, or its direct opposite. Either it was very hot or very cold, never a bit of both.

It certainly beat hanging around in the cold vacuum of space with no one for company but yourself. Breakaway had spent the last few months in space, making his way to Earth in order to find this hidden community of fellow Autobots. Not only that, but he had had important news to deliver an old friend of his and he had been expecting the sort of reaction this old friend had given.

Not only was Centurion's message a few Earth decades late but it meant that somewhere on this planet the Decepticon was still around, perhaps having been killed…or simply in hibernation. Breakaway wouldn't be surprised if Centurion was simply buried somewhere, waiting to be found and reawakened.

Breakaway knew of what had happened on Cybertron all that time ago, when Optimus Prime's own son had disappeared in some sort of displacement field along with the Decepticon war criminal Centurion. The message that had been sent by Centurion from this world meant that the displacement field had taken both of them to some place on this very planet. Whatever Centurion had been planning it had something to do with someone called Unicron. This was a disturbing thought since all the legends Breakaway had heard about Unicron implied that he was one evil-doing robot.

Obviously something had gone wrong with Centurion's scheme since from what Breakaway could tell Unicron was nowhere to be found. Centurion wasn't around either, so it was safe to assume that the Decepticon's plan had gone awry somewhere.

There had been a noticeable change in Optimus Prime since Breakaway had delivered the news. The once confident Prime seemed a little subdued, as if the news that his son could still be alive had affected him in some way. This was certainly no surprise, although Optimus was yet to tell anybody else. In fact, he had all but disappeared for the last hour, as if he had left to gather his thoughts in private. Breakaway had been left to settle into what would be his new home by himself, having been shown to a hangar by one of the humans.

Breakaway had managed to gather all he could about the human civilization before arriving, having managed access to what the human's called the "world wide web". Not only had he been able to learn their language but he had been able to find schematics for the very vehicle he had chosen as his alternate form, having always been the type to prefer being airborne.

Currently Breakaway stood outside the main Autobot hangar, trying to decide whether he should actually venture inside or not. He knew only some of the other Autobots that were here while the others he had never met before. Sure, he was always keen on making new friends but there was one in particular he was nervous about seeing. Not because he couldn't stand this particular Autobot but because he was afraid of what they would say.

A few humans wandered past, casting a few glances in his direction but otherwise they kept walking. It seemed that all the humans at this base had seen plenty of his kind before and so were used to seeing them around. However, it had been made explicitly clear to him that the presence of the Autobots here on Earth was to remain secret from the general human population. According to the humans here at NEST headquarters, the disclosure of the existence of alien life would have all sorts of consequences and none of them were very good. Breakaway was more than willing to follow the rules, just as long as his new life here didn't end up feeling like he had become some sort of a prisoner. Optimus seemed happy here so why couldn't he get used to life on this very different and very strange world?

_It's nothing like home,_ Breakaway realized, _I'd be kidding myself if I actually enjoyed life here._ He had had no other options on Cybertron. There was nothing left there except a dead husk of a world, ravaged by war and left mostly abandoned. The Decepticons had discovered him and the group of Autobots he had been hiding out with and thus he had been more or less forced to leave to avoid getting killed. He was the sole survivor of this group and as such had headed to Earth, partly because of Optimus' message and partly because of Centurion's delayed message. Another reason was a fellow Autobot, the one he was afraid of seeing but knew he would have to confront sooner or later.

Years before, perhaps thousands since human years were nothing in the life of a Cybertronian, Breakaway had made a promise to someone that he hadn't been able to keep.

For a time Breakaway had been a mere worker in the glory days of Cybertron, having helped run one of the many spaceports on his home-world. This was where he had met Chromia, an Autobot like him. At the time Breakaway had been younger and far more of a risk-taker than he was now and had made his move on Chromia the first chance he had received. The pair had seemed perfect for each other and had gotten along perfectly.

Cybertronians like Breakaway had genders and some of them even engaged in relationships with one another. Breakaway and Chromia and been in such a relationship, up until the war had broken out and the pair had been drawn into the fighting that had ravaged their world. Over the ensuing years of fighting they had stayed close together, fighting in the war that claimed the lives of billions of their race and made them members of an endangered species.

During the height of the fighting Breakaway had been assigned by Optimus to infiltrate the Decepticon ranks and gather information on Centurion. For some time Breakaway had posed as an Autobot traitor working on the side of the Decepticons, working his way up the ranks until he was one of Centurion's most trusted soldiers. In the process Breakaway had been forced to commit many atrocities in order to cement his place in the Decepticons and make sure that there was no risk of his cover being exposed. These actions had scarred him mentally and they still weighed down upon his mind, even when some of them had occurred quite some time ago.

Before he had started his work on infiltrating the Decepticon ranks in what had been an important mission, he had made a promise to Chromia that he would return to her and give her safe passage off of Cybertron when the time to leave came. Not only had Breakaway more or less abandoned her but he had failed to even keep in touch, learning halfway through his stint as an Autobot traitor that she had left with others to pursue the All-spark.

Breakaway had never expected to see her again. Now that he was here on Earth he had discovered that she was in fact one of the Autobots in residence on the island, working with the humans in the NEST organization. He was afraid of confronting her after all of this time, having to explain why he had abandoned her. What would he say? He was fairly certain that no mere set of words could heal the division that had formed between them.

Hence he was stalling by standing outside the hangar, able to hear the voices of the twins Skids and Mudflap as they argued about something again. His sensors could detect a few other Autobots inside the hangar, simply hanging around while two of them seemed to be practicing close-combat with one another.

Before Optimus had disappeared for some private time he had given Breakaway a brief rundown on all that had happened since the discovery of the All-spark on this planet. It seemed that Breakaway had missed out on a few large battles and the death of Megatron, although the Decepticon leader was back on his feet and well enough alive thanks to a shard of the All-spark itself. The All-spark had been destroyed and Megatron had been resurrected, releasing the Fallen from his outer-dimensional prison so he could lead an army to this world in order to activate the energon harvester and destroy the system's sun for the precious energy source.

Of course, all of this had been prevented and it seems that the human race had been saved. The sun still shone high in the sky and the Fallen was dead, killed by Optimus. Megatron had escaped, along with several other Decepticons although this seemed only minor in the grand scheme of things. No doubt they would all return at some point. This was the problem, however: no Decepticons had in fact been discovered on this world since that battle in Egypt. NEST had been reduced to nothing but some sort of reserve taskforce, waiting for events that didn't seem to be coming anytime soon.

In all, Breakaway had arrived at what was possibly the least interesting time he could have. He didn't have any problem with this though since he had seen his fair share of fighting back on Cybertron prior to his departure from that world. He was in fact getting tired of all the killing, still unable to shake off the memories of what he had been forced to do during his time undercover in Centurion's Decepticon forces.

It had been information that Breakaway had gained that had lead Optimus to discover Centurion's hideaway and the fact that the Decepticon may have been experimenting with some sort of powerful energy source. Understandably, Breakaway felt indirectly responsible for what had happened to Optimus' son. Optimus, Deadeye and Ironhide had all gone to Centurion's hideout following information Breakaway had given them and as a result both Centurion and Deadeye had simply…disappeared.

In fact, Breakaway was quite guilt-ridden for an Autobot. Not only did he bear the memories of atrocities he himself had committed but he realized that some of that Decepticon ruthlessness had rubbed off on him somewhat. It was evident in how he regarded the humans, seeing them as inferior and disadvantaged. However, all the other Autobots seemed to see the potential in them and the help they provided. It was because of such things that Breakaway realized he was going downhill, mentally speaking. He was becoming more and more like the enemy he despised, probably because he had spent so much time working undercover with them.

This gave him more of an excuse to stall the inevitable encounter he would have with the other Autobots he knew. He was unfit for duty, scarred mentally and yet he felt obligated to help in the war effort on this world, even if there wasn't much of a war on right now. He was simply full of conflicting thoughts, some eating away at his conscience more than others.

Finally Breakaway made his decision. There was no use in him turning away and leaving, he had already taken the time to come to this planet. What was the point of isolating himself from others of his own kind? He dreaded his inevitable encounter with Chromia the most though, realizing he would have to take things slow and easy. He didn't want to damage their relationship anymore than he already had.

The hangar door was partially open, allowing him to squeeze through into the spacious interior. The first other Autobot he saw was Ratchet, the renowned medical specialist and perhaps one of the more imposing of the group.

Ratchet was taller than most of the others, bearing the yellow and red parts of the emergency services Hummer he changed into. Currently he was locked in a duel with the burly and dark coloured Ironhide, a weapons specialist who had the alternate mode of a black pickup truck. Both he and Ratchet had their swords out and seemed to be practicing their moves against one another, barely noticing Breakaway walk in.

The Autobot Jolt stood watching the pair. Jolt was a more recent addition to the team, having seen action in the battle of Egypt but otherwise hardly anywhere else. He beared the parts of the eclectic blue sports car he changed into, an electric whip only partially dangling from each arm. He was the one to notice Breakaway's entry and nodded to Ironhide and Ratchet in order to alert them to this.

Breakaway only knew Ironhide as a close friend: the others he had had very little to do with. He looked around for anyone else, Chromia in particular, but he couldn't see anyone else in the space of the hangar. The other few Autobots were probably outside, doing their own thing during this quite ordinary day.

Ironhide and Ratchet ceased their practice duel, retracting their swords back into their arms and turning to face the newcomer. Ratchet regarded Breakaway with the sort of glance someone gave when they were trying to form first impressions. Ironhide recognized Breakaway immediately, stepping forward to greet his old friend.

"Breakaway," Ironhide said with realization, "I can't believe it's actually you. I thought you were dead…"

Breakaway had been expecting as much. He had been out of the limelight for so long that it seemed most of the fellow Autobots he had been close friends with seemed to think he had died. Of course, they couldn't be further from the truth.

"I'm alive, Ironhide," Breakaway replied casually, "What made you think I was dead?"

Ironhide contemplated this for a moment, as if he wasn't actually sure himself what had made him think this in the first place. He shrugged, unable to come up with a solid answer.

"Either that or you were still working with the Decepticons," Ironhide replied, "For a while there I thought you had actually really joined them."

Breakaway took a moment, to answer, faltering when he realized just how close this had been to happening. There had been numerous times during his undercover work that Breakaway had found that he enjoyed the killing and the allure of power. There had been times where he had contemplated dumping his Autobot allegiances altogether and actually working in Centurion's force of Decepticons. These had all been thoughts and speculations and had all occurred at different times, often depending on his situation at the time. The atrocities he had committed such as killing unarmed prisoners and wiping out pockets of Autobot resistance…sometimes he did feel like a Decepticon.

"I would never consider it," Breakaway lied, "besides, I like you guys too much."

Ironhide chuckled and there was a brief silence as the pair decided on what to say next. Ratchet was the one to speak though, the look on his metallic features implying that he probably distrusted Breakaway. Such a thing was to be expected, though.

"I've heard a lot about you after you left our forces on Cybertron," Ratchet said, "the work you did infiltrating Centurion's forces…It must have been difficult keeping up the act."

"It's good to see you again, Ratchet," Breakaway replied, trying to sound interested. He hadn't really come in here for mere pleasantries and was still looking around for that one Autobot in particular, the one he was afraid of seeing but felt obligated to anyway.

"Really?" Ratchet sounded a little surprised. Breakaway gave the equivalent of a smile.

"No, I haven't," Breakaway replied bluntly, "I was just making that up."

Ironhide laughed but Ratchet didn't, not an unexpected reaction. The Autobot medic seemed to take a good long look at Breakaway, as if trying to determine whether or not trusting him or even being friends with him would be a good idea.

"It was a joke," Breakaway said, noticing the awkward silence that had fallen across the group. He had never been one to like awkward silences although he did realize that Ratchet would find it hard to trust someone he had only just met.

Jolt stepped forward, looking like he was about to speak only for one of the twins, Skids, to interject.

"It's always good to see a new face around here," Skids said, "My name's Skids, by the way."

"Breakaway."

Skids nodded towards his brother, Mudflap, who stepped over to introduce himself. Skids interrupted him beforehand, though.

"This is my brother, Mudflap," Skids replied, "He's the least intelligent out of the two of us, just so you know."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mudflap sounded annoyed although his brother simply formed a metallic smirk at his reaction, "last time I checked, _you_ were the idiot."

"Oh yeah?" Skids turned to face his brother, doing his best to sound intimidating. "You want to make a bet about that?"

"You _bet_ I do."

Breakaway and the others shifted their attention away from the bickering twins, leaving the pair to argue which seemed to be a common occurrence. Breakaway looked around, taking note of how empty the hangar seemed to be.

"I think you'll like it on Earth," Ironhide said, "the planet's a safe haven for our kind. There doesn't seem to be much in the way of Decepticons here anymore."

"It's boring, that's what I think," Ratchet interjected, stepping forward, "the only reason we formed this NEST organization was so we could battle the Decepticons. Since they haven't tried anything for about a single Earth year we've been left with nothing to do except…well…" He paused, thinking. "We have nothing to do. All we can do is train…and wait."

"Sounds exciting," Breakaway replied. He was being sarcastic of course, although he did prefer the prospect of simply laying low and not engaging in a fight against the Decepticons. Maybe it had been a good idea coming to this planet after all.

That's when a few bright figures zoomed into the room. There were two of them, one being distinctly blue while the other purple. Both were quite short, perhaps half of Breakaway's height. Both had taken on motorcycles as their alternate forms and thus bore some parts of the vehicles on their bodies, the most notable being the single wheel that acted as their means of getting around. Instead of legs they had the wheel and were perhaps faster than most other legged Autobots.

It took Breakaway a moment to recognize Chromia as the blue one and immediately he was overcome with the Cybertronian equivalent of nerves. He quickly composed himself though, doing his best to appear ready for whatever she had to say to him. Not only had Breakaway seemingly forgotten about her but he had more or less abandoned her as well. She was more than capable of looking after herself though so it was understandable that she had found her own way to Earth.

She stopped just ahead near Jolt, looking towards Breakaway with some recognition. It took her a moment to recognize him through the jet fuselage that acted as part of his body but when she did she managed the robotic equivalent of a surprised gasp.

"I can tell this will be interesting," Ironhide replied. Jolt nodded in agreement.

"Breakaway?" Chromia said slowly, unable to quite believe that he was here.

Breakaway realized that all eyes in the room were trained on him and he only nervously shifted where he stood, trying his best to appear cool and collected. He wasn't quite fond of being the centre of attention unless he was actually showing off. He certainly wasn't showing off now, that was for sure.

"It's me," Breakaway said, stepping forwards towards the smaller Autobot. He went to reach out and caress the side of her face like he had done so many times in the past but she pulled back immediately, leaving the Autobot standing with a hand out that was touching nothing but empty space.

"I don't think so," Chromia said sternly, shooting a look that only furthered Breakaway's overwhelming guilt.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Breakaway managed to say, retracting his outstretched arm.

"Sorry for what?" Chromia snapped, causing Breakaway to step back in surprise, "for abandoning me? Not only that, but it looked pretty clear that you had joined the Decepticons…"  
"That was because Optimus and I had decided that we needed someone on the inside," Breakaway said, realizing that forgiveness from Chromia would be hard to come by. He could tell that she wasn't in a mood to hear his excuses but he continued arguing his point anyway, trying to make it clear that he hadn't purposely left her.

"I went undercover, you should know that," Breakaway continued. Now he knew why he had been afraid of confronting Chromia again.

"I heard about it but I didn't believe it," Chromia said, noticeably hurt by his sudden appearance on this planet, "I hadn't expected to see you again. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was worried about you? That maybe I was waiting to hear from you?"

"I was worried about you," Breakaway replied, "but my undercover work made it impossible to try and contact you. Chances are my cover would have been blown and…"

"Are you two done?" Ironhide interrupted rather abruptly, both Breakaway and Chromia looking in his direction. "Maybe you would both be better off taking this outside?"

"No, here's as good a place as any," Chromia replied bluntly, turning back to look at Breakaway. She was still annoyed; in fact she seemed to be bordering on an outright explosion of anger and rage.

"I heard about the things you did when you were with the Decepticons," Chromia continued, "killing unarmed prisoners, taking orders from someone as despicable as Centurion…The Breakaway I knew wouldn't do such things."

Breakaway had no answer to this. Not only was it obvious that Chromia despised him and all that he had done but he knew that any sort of attempt at forgiveness would be futile. He was unwelcome here as far as she went. His stint as an inside-man in the Deception ranks had effectively ruined his relationships with others.

There had been a time during the peak of his relationship with Chromia that they had considered making offspring, an act that would have sealed their relationship for good. Back then, life had been so much simpler and they hadn't needed to worry about wars or Decepticons. It occurred to Breakaway that his life had been ruined by the war, as had the lives of many others like him.

However, he was perhaps far more affected by it all. The things he had done during his undercover stint in the Decepticons…they still weighed on his mind heavily. No wonder most of his fellow Autobots didn't like him.

"I can see it in your eyes," Chromia continued, their eyes meeting. Hers seemed to look right into his mind. "The things you've done…I bet there were times when you were actually considering on joining them."

Breakaway didn't answer. He didn't see the need since it was obvious they both knew the answer. The other Autobots watched and listened, something that only annoyed Breakaway slightly.

"The Breakaway I know may as well be dead," Chromia said. Breakaway would have swallowed if he could, remaining silent as she seemed to condemn him as one of the enemy.

Before she could finish someone familiar walked into the hangar, dressed in standard NEST attire with the insignia of Major. It was Lennox and he was looking only slightly more serious than he usually did. The Autobots turned their attention to him and the human frowned, as if realizing that he might have been interrupting something.

"Uh…Am I interrupting?" He asked, just to clarify. He looked at each of the Autobots, trying to determine from their features whether he was or not. He didn't receive an answer from any of them, though.

Breakaway wasn't feeling the weight of Chromia's words now but he knew he would later. He tried his best to remain composed, although he was already contemplating leaving. No one would be able to stop him if he tried even if he had no idea on where to go. Going back to Cybertron wasn't an option but staying here didn't seem to be one either.

"Anyway," Lennox continued, getting back on track, "you're all needed in the main hangar. Something's come up…"  
Ironhide suddenly looked alert, as if excited at the prospect of some action. Breakaway didn't change his stance, thinking that maybe this lull in Decepticon incursions to this planet had suddenly ended, as if to coincide with his arrival.

"What is it? Decepticons?" Ironhide asked, "Because if it is, we're ready."

"We _think_ it's Decepticons," Lennox replied, sounding a little uncertain with this speculation, "but we can't be sure. However, we're going to have to check it out anyway. That's why the General's organizing a main briefing in the comms room, over at the main hangar. You're all needed over there now, including you, Breakaway." He pointed at the recent arrival. "Now that you're here it's probably time you started pulling your weight."

Breakaway nodded, still unable to stop thinking about what Chromia had said to him. This interruption by Lennox had only helped ease the Autobot's pains a little since it meant he wouldn't have to finish hearing what Chromia had to say about him.

Lennox looked around, noticing one or two absentees.

"Where's Optimus?" He asked, "He should be here…"

"He's out on the beach," Ironhide replied, "I think he just wants to be left alone."

Lennox nodded, only slightly confused.

"Right. Well, uh...go and tell him he's needed in the comms room."

Ironhide turned around to leave and get Optimus. Breakaway and the others followed Lennox outside, into the glaring Indian Ocean sun. It seemed that maybe Breakaway would end up straight back into this war after all, if this emergency situation was what he thought it was. A Decepticon incursion, the first for at least a year…It would certainly give them all something to do.


	11. Remains

**Remains  
**The Hague, Netherlands (Holland)  
December 13th, 2010

The Hague was a place of history, with much local culture and old European buildings and winding streets to go with them. In all, it was an old city only coming to grips with the modern era, with cars and buses flowing along the narrow streets and pedestrians walking along talking on their mobile phones and such. It was a mish-mash of old and new, to say the least.

By the beaches of The Hague were typical dock facilities, with cranes and container ships. It was at one particular set of docks that dozens of soldiers from the Dutch military were patrolling around while workers went about preparing containers and loading them onto a waiting barge. At one dockside warehouse in particular there seemed to be much activity, with several soldiers standing outside while workers and men in white lab-coats milled about inside the warehouse.

Inside stood Captain Dules Lochaeen, an experienced soldier in the Dutch equivalent to the Special Forces. He stood with a rifle slung around his shoulder and mobile phone to one ear, the voice of his superior flowing into his ear. He sounded annoyed, to say the least.

"_Somebody just gave me word that some US government types are on their way," _the General continued, his voice tinged with annoyance, _"They'll probably try pushing you guys around, so when they show up I would be careful with them. They're after what we found, that much is for certain."  
_  
Dules nodded, although he was still rather confused. He had been stationed at a military base in the north of the country for the last few years, going out on training exercises and occasionally responding to hostage situations and such. However, it was only a few days ago that he and part of the division had been called in to lock down these dock facilities while some sort of "precious cargo" was loaded onto a barge to be shipped off to a government facility near the Barrier Dam which was further north in the country. It wasn't often that highly trained soldiers were called to guard some items that were being loaded onto a barge, so there was no doubt in the Captain's mind that the items were important.

There was at least one item in particular that lay covered up in a tarp over in the corner of the warehouse while a few men in lab-coats milled around it, taking readings from Geiger Counters and jotting down notes. Dules and his men had been ordered to simply keep guard and ensure no one without government authorization entered the dockyard. Part of those orders involved not taking a peek at the large twenty-five foot object that seemed to be under the tarp as well as leaving the scientists alone to do whatever it was they were doing.

Whatever it was, the Captain knew little about it. He did know that it had been found in or around Arnhem recently, but he had no idea about what it was. From what he could see it had some sort of blocky, bipedal shape as if it was some sort of complicated statue being kept under the tarp. He doubted the government would be so interested in a statue s he assumed it was more than that, perhaps some sort of experimental weapon or vehicle. Of course, all Dules could do was guess as to the nature of the twenty-five foot tall object underneath the large grey tarp.

Today was the day the item was due to be loaded onto a barge and shipped out for further research and thus Dules was looking forward to getting off of this uneventful assignment. Being assigned to guard some docks wasn't where he thought his military career would get him. He had seen action against terrorist groups in Europe and was used to getting shot at and shooting people but when it came to this peculiar assignment he was left with nothing to do except stand around and…well, guard. That was what he had been ordered to do and he would follow his orders.

"So…do I hand over the cargo to the Americans when they show up?" Dules asked, although he knew that this was a stupid question. This find, whatever it was, belonged to the government of Holland (otherwise known as the Netherlands) and they wouldn't be about to hand it over to some American bullies.

"_Of course you don't!"_ The General was annoyed alright and this was clearly evident in his voice. _"They have no jurisdiction in _our_ country!_ _Just because they're American, it doesn't mean we have to do what they tell us to do!"_

"I understand sir," the Captain replied, "is there anything else I should know about?"

"_That's about all,"_ the General said, his voice easing down to its normal tone, _"just be sure to call back if you need any help. I'm certain that the Americans will pull whatever stunt they can to get our cargo."_

"What is the cargo, exactly?" Dules asked.

"_That's classified,"_ the General replied bluntly, _"besides, you're not being paid to ask questions. You're being paid to guard those docks and stop the Americans from claiming that cargo as their own."_

"Yes sir," Dules replied confidently, "I'll ensure they don't get it."

"_Make sure of that, Captain,"_ the General replied before hanging up. Dules put away his mobile phone and looked around, left with nothing to do but his job, which was to guard the cargo.

He was standing near a stack of crates, doing his best to look inconspicuous as he tried to get a good look at what was under the tarp. It was just off to his right, tended to by a few scientists as it had been for the last few days. No doubt they would be suspicious if he tried to get close enough to take a look under the tarp but what could they possibly do to stop him? He was a soldier after all and they were just a bunch of geeks in lab-coats.

He was against disobeying his orders though. He could get in a lot of trouble, especially since this cargo seemed to be so important to their country's government. He decided he would do his best to not satisfy his curiosity on this particular assignment, even if the secrecy about the precious cargo bothered him.

Why would the Americans be coming here anyway? Since when did Americans interfere with affairs in Holland? The importance of this cargo was obviously enough to draw the attention of the Americans, something that only further hinted at how special it must have been. Not only was the Dutch government interested in it but it seemed the Americans were as well.

The warehouse itself was nestled right on the waterfront and was large enough to allow the barge to park itself inside, making loading and offloading easier. Dules stepped over to the railing nearby, managing a glance down into the somewhat murky seawater. The barge wasn't due to arrive for about half an hour so the scientists responsible for the precious cargo were hurriedly taking some last minute notes about the cargo as it was prepared to be loaded.

Outside, the sun had since disappeared behind dark grey clouds, hinting at a possibility of rain. In all, it was a typically cold day seeing as it was winter here in Europe. Dules felt a slight shiver as a cold wind blew into the warehouse from outside, although he had kitted himself up in slightly thick winter gear, as had everybody else in his unit.

He glanced again at the scientists grouped around the cargo hidden under the tarp, noticing that one of them had knocked away part of the tarp. Dules saw what he thought was some sort of large metallic arm, complete with a suitable metal hand but this glimpse of what was underneath was only temporary as the scientist put the tarp back onto it. Not only that but the other scientists strapped the tarp down onto what was underneath, ensuring that no further slipups would occur.

The Captain became aware of someone stopping next to him and he turned, seeing that it was Corporal Vasselhoff. The Corporal was young with close-cropped blonde hair and was usually the one to make jokes although now he looked worried. Dules couldn't help but become unnerved at this.

"What is it?" He asked.

"One of our street patrols just reported in," Vasselhoff replied, "apparently there are about three white vans on their way here, although they appear to belong to civil services. However, we believe that they might be…"

"The Americans?" Dules asked. Why would the Americans bother with substandard disguises when they could easily roll up in an army truck?

"It could be, but we can't be certain," Vasselhoff said, "the vans only just grouped into a convoy on the road here…"

The Americans were taking subtle approach, by the sound of it. If the Americans were in fact on their way here then they were taking an awful lot of countermeasures to avoid detection, even if they had failed so far.

"What are our orders, sir?" The Corporal asked, "are we to do what they say?"

"No," the Captain replied bluntly, remembering the conversation he had just had with the General, "we get rid of them. And I don't mean shooting the place up…No, we'll just have to make them leave by some other means."

* * *

Seated in the passenger seat of an "acquired" civil services van, Colonel Francis Weller was loading up. Currently he was screwing a suppressor onto the end of a chrome silver Beretta Inox 96 pistol which had been chambered for .40 Smith & Wesson rounds. Seated next to him and driving the van was Captain Xander Farnell who only managed a sideways glance at his superior as he prepared the pistol.

"Uh, sir, if you don't mind me asking…" Farnell sounded nervous but Weller didn't care much. Just as long as he was able to do his job it didn't matter whether Farnell was nervous or not.

Weller kept the suppressed pistol gripped in his left hand as he reached out with his right and pressed the PLAY button on the CD player. The CD inside started spinning, playing the Rolling Stones song _Like a Rainbow._ Weller started humming along as he casually pulled out his black metal Magnum .44 revolver, flicking open the rotating chamber and loading a round into each of the six holes.

"Do we actually have a plan of approach here?" Farnell asked, sounding a bit worried, "you never actually gave us a briefing before we left the States…"

"I'm making this up as I go along, Captain," Weller said, humming quietly as he hit home the chamber of the Magnum and slid it back into the appropriate holster which he wore at his waist.

Weller had never been one for careful planning. In fact, he had found it considerably easier to make a fairly loose plan which could incorporate all manner of unexpected occurrences. He knew of others like him who often made meticulous plans, only for some unforeseen circumstance to arise and throw the whole scheme into jeopardy. Weller was smart…he didn't make the mistake of overly complicated planning.

The van had been acquired from the city council, giving them the guise of standard council workers. There were another two vans full of Weller's commandoes following them along, the three having grouped into a convoy at the start of the dockside road that ran to the dockyard they were interested in.

According to their sources, the Dutch government had apparently found an NBE (Non Biological Extraterrestrial) in Arnhem somewhere. It had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, an occurrence that was more than a little bit suspicious. Perhaps it had only arrived recently, crashing down from the heavens into the Arnhem River for it to be detected and found by the government? There was no way of determining how exactly it had ended up in the Arnhem River but it had gotten in there nonetheless and that was what mattered.

Weller and his force of commandoes had the power to do whatever was necessary in order to retrieve the NBE for themselves. Officially he and his organization didn't exist and thus it was safe to say that people who didn't exist could do as they pleased. This was something that only pleased Weller since it meant that he wouldn't have to go through any sort of red tape or "sissy-like" means to get what he wanted. He could simply waltz into a room and wave a gun around and he wouldn't be punished for it.

The trip from the United States to Europe had been one organized by their benefactors in the government and had gotten them to the continent before nightfall. Now, as it neared late afternoon, they were close to arriving at the warehouse where the Dutch government had moved the NBE, probably in order for it to be loaded upon a barge and shipped off to a facility near the Barrier Dam.

Of course, Weller and his men were here in order to prevent the NBE from getting shipped away. It was at its most vulnerable in the warehouse and getting it now would make their job of covering this whole thing up a lot easier. Weller still wasn't sure how exactly they would get past the Dutch soldiers guarding the docks but he was sure they would figure something out, even if it did involve waving guns around. In order to be more safe than sorry Weller had made sure to stock up on guns prior to his arrival and was preparing them for the possible shootout as they neared the docks.

"So there's no plan, sir?" Farnell asked, "Because usually there is…"

"Not this time, son," Weller replied, glancing towards the Captain, "you and the boys are simply to follow my lead. We'll get what we came here for, there's no doubt about that."

Weller removed an MP5K PDW (Personal Defence Weapon) and clicked a magazine into place on the submachine gun, sliding back the hammer and peering down the sights in order to get a feel for it. Weller was a gun-nut to say the least and he was always willing to try out the newest hardware, although for this particular trip he had settled for something a bit more subtle. No big guns for this mission: no, all he needed was a submachine gun…or two.

He clicked the MP5K back into its place on his uniform, just to the left of his stomach. Once that was in place he pulled out the MP7 PDW he had clicked into a spot on his right side, loading this particular weapon with a fresh magazine and ensuring that it was ready for him to fire.

Weller was already thinking on how they would approach this task. For one thing he had never been a fan of the Dutch, primarily because of his experiences with Dutch Special Forces in the past. And for another thing he was probably more inclined to violence than any of his soldiers, so to him shooting up the place was more than a valid option. Of course, shooting up a whole dockyard wouldn't go unnoticed so Weller had already decided upon a suitable cover-up: a terrorist attack. If the shooting did start they would ensure it was as reckless and meaningless as if it had been achieved by a whole bunch of idiot terrorists, making sure to blow up a few buildings on the dock in order to cement this illusion. No witnesses would be left alive to ensure they weren't exposed however, although even witnesses they might miss could easily be silenced later on.

The Colonel had settled on the name of "Sector Eight" for his organization since it was more or less the successor of Sector Seven. However, they were probably at more of an advantage since not even the President or the Secretary of Defence knew of their existence and thus wouldn't be able to interfere as they had done with Sector Seven in the past.

Weller put away the MP7 as Farnell pulled up to the front guardhouse at the main gate that leads into the grey and dreary dock facility. The Dutch soldier at the checkpoint stepped alongside the driver's side window while another two kept watch from the gate up ahead, rifles slung around their shoulders as they eyed the tinted windows of the vans suspiciously.

Farnell was one of those people who had actually taken the time to learn languages other than English. Weller could never see much point to this and so had restricted himself to English only, preferring to let nerds like Farnell to do the talking. Weller kept his suppressed Beretta pistol held to his left and out of sight of the Dutch soldiers standing outside, deciding to listen in on the conversation that occurred between Farnell and the Dutch soldier standing by the now opened driver's side window.

Farnell was dressed in a bland military uniform which lacked any sort of discerning insignia in order to protect their identities. They could have been anyone from any sort of military force from any country, thus the Dutch would have trouble working out who they were exactly. Weller was the only one in full Sector Seven garb, with a black armour vest and matching shirt and trousers. He even beared Sector Seven insignia, although he was working on changing that to Sector Eight when he had the chance.

The Dutch soldier, a Sergeant judging from the insignia on his uniform, went to speak but Farnell interrupted him with fluent Dutch. The soldier looked mildly surprised, unsure of just who these men were and why there were three vans lined up waiting to head inside the dockyard.

The conversation between the two continued and Farnell suddenly turned to Weller just as the Dutch soldier headed back into the guard post. Weller watched as the soldier picked up a telephone and dialled, speaking quietly into the phone while throwing the occasional glance towards Farnell and the van.

"What did you tell him?" Weller asked, frowning. Getting inside without getting the attention of every Dutch soldier in the area would be preferred, although judging from the expression on the soldier's face as he spoke into the phone it seemed that getting inside would be trickier than originally suspected.

"Well, it seems they were expecting us sir," Farnell replied, "someone tipped them off to our arrival…"

"Who?" Weller's voice peaked with anger but he quickly composed himself, realizing that a leak like this would mean little. They could do what they wanted after all because they didn't officially "exist".

"I don't know," Farnell continued, "but they've been told to not let anyone without the proper authorization inside."

"Fuck these guys," Weller said bluntly. The Dutch soldier returned from the guard booth and spoke in accented English as he regarded Farnell with some suspicion.

"I'm afraid that we're under orders to not let anyone in who hasn't got the proper authorization," the soldier said bluntly. He went to smile apologetically but Weller simply leaned over Farnell and shot the soldier through the head with the silenced pistol. The soldier went down with a hole right between his eyes.

"Floor it," Weller said bluntly as he sat back in his seat. The two soldiers up ahead seemed to jump back in surprise as they saw their comrade fall, both of them going for their SG 551 assault rifles. Weller simply took aim and shot both of them through the front windscreen, the silenced pistol coughing quietly. The windscreen smashed loudly though and glass rained into his and Farnell's lap, allowing the cold outside breeze to billow inside the van.

Farnell floored the accelerator with his foot, the van picking up speed moments before it slammed into the metal wire gate. Both halves of the gate were knocked clean off of their hinges as the van sped into the dockyard, followed by the two others that had been tagging along behind.

"Did you really have to shoot them, sir?" Farnell asked as he brought the van to a skidding stop in the dockyard. The other two vans did the same, their rear doors opening as half a dozen heavily armed and armoured Sector Eight commandoes stormed out of each.

"Yes!" Weller shouted in response, annoyed at Farnell's ignorance. How else would they have gotten inside? Besides, it had been a while since Weller had been in a shootout so it seemed about time he started one himself.

There were several Dutch soldiers in the open dockyard and they all watched with some confusion as the Sector Eight commandoes stormed out of the vans. Weller pushed open his door and stepped out into the cold waterside air, able to smell the salt from the seawater. A few seagulls flew overhead but otherwise the dockyard was devoid of wildlife.

"Okay men!" Weller shouted, keeping his Beretta pistol clutched in his right hand as he surveyed their surroundings and the hostile forces nearby, "let them have it!"

The commandoes had spread out, taking cover behind stacks of crates and the like. The Dutch soldiers had only just begun to react, realizing that they were under attack. Weller spotted two of them running for cover up ahead and so he simply raised his pistol, gunning both down without so much as batting an eyelid.

Immediately the other Dutch soldiers opened fire, their rifles thundering throughout the open air of the dockyard. A few rounds slammed into the cement near Weller's feet but he barely reacted, finding the source of the incoming fire and silencing this particular soldier with a few well-placed shots from his Beretta pistol.

No doubt they would be calling for help, an occurrence Weller was willing to prevent. Behind him, Farnell had exited the van and was wielding an M4 rifle, keeping low as either side exchanged fire across the dockyard. Weller turned to him, determined to make sure this operation went without a hiccup.

"Captain, activate the EMP," Weller said, "We don't want these guys calling for help."

Farnell nodded, going around to the back of the van and opening the doors. A few rounds pounded into the van near him, causing him to stumble back but Weller quickly scanned the area heading, noticing a Dutch soldier crouched behind some crates up ahead. Weller took careful aim and fired, the bullet hitting the soldier through the right eye. He fell to the ground, his rifle clattering to a stop nearby.

Without further interference Farnell opened the van's rear doors, pulling out a small conical metal device about half of the Captain's height. It was quite heavy and Farnell seemed to strain a bit as he pulled out of the van and set it onto the pavement, quickly keying in a sequence on the control pad that was on one side of the device.

The top of the cone opened, revealing a metal ring pulsing with energy. This was another item that had been reverse-engineered from the alien robots over the past few years, capable of emitting an electro-magnetic pulse that could disable anything electronic within a mile radius. Without further ado Farnell flicked a switch and the ring inside the device flared brightly, a deep throbbing metallic sound ringing throughout the dockyard. It ended about a second later, almost as quickly as it had begun.

Just to be sure Weller pulled out his radio and tried it. It wasn't working, certifying that the EMP emitter had worked.

_Well,_ he thought whilst smiling to himself, _I'm glad that worked._ The EMP emitter hadn't actually been fully field tested and this was the first time it had been used out in the field. Obviously it was working to its full functionality.

With the threat of the Dutch soldiers calling for backup out of the way, Weller and his team of commandoes could proceed with their hastily planned "false" terrorist attack. That meant blowing up a few buildings for good measure so Weller ordered a few of his commandoes to go off and do just that.

Weller stood by the van, watching as the remaining commandoes gradually fought off the Dutch soldiers. By now most of the Dutch soldiers were retreating back into the warehouse at the end of the dockyard, a move that probably wasn't the best thing their opponents could have done. Weller didn't care though since it simply meant that his job would be made easier.

The commandoes started forwards, heading for the warehouse. Weller was at the front of the group, marching along with determination since he knew he would be getting what he had come for. Up ahead he saw movement and a pair of Dutch soldiers appeared from behind a stack of crates by the water, heading back for the warehouse. Weller fired a few shots, taking one down. He went to shoot at the other but his pistol clicked on empty, the Dutch soldier he was aiming at raising his rifle in preparation to fire.

Weller was unfazed as he pulled his Magnum revolver out of its holster with his right hand, bringing it up within seconds. He fired and the revolver thundered loudly, buckling back in his grip as the powerful handgun launched the projectile. The Dutch soldier was knocked backwards, landing onto the ground with a dull _ker-plunk!_ Weller holstered his Beretta pistol and continued towards the entrance of the warehouse, Captain Farnell and about six of the Sector Eight commandoes behind him.

As they neared the warehouse Weller saw movement in a window on the building's second floor, the Colonel being forced to duck behind a container as a rifle from the window opened fire in his direction. Rounds pinged off of the metal of the dull bull container, Weller watching as two of his commandoes were cut down under the fire. He wasn't particularly annoyed at this though since there would always be more where they came from, he was just annoyed at the person shooting at him. He could see the young female Dutch soldier standing in the window, firing away at the intruders before her SG 551 rifle clicked on empty. As she reloaded Weller leaned around the side of the container and took careful aim with his Magnum revolver, firing a single shot. The Dutch soldier came smashing through the window, falling to the ground below and hitting the cement head first.

With that particular threat out of the way Weller stepped out of cover and headed towards the warehouse's front entrance, arriving at a locked door. He assumed it was barricaded and so turned to Captain Farnell who was standing behind him.

"Give me a breaching charge," Weller ordered. The Captain removed a breaching charge from his equipment belt and handed it to the Colonel who went on to place it onto the wooden door. When the strips of plastic explosive were in place he and the commandoes stepped back and off to the side, Weller pressing the detonator for the breaching charge without the slightest hesitation.

The door exploded inwards with a loud _bang!_ Smoke billowed forth along with splinters of wood, providing ample distraction for the team to head inside. Weller was the first through, passing through the gradually clearing smoke and stepping over the scorched bodies of two downed Dutch soldiers.

Immediately rifles opened fire and bullets pounded into the crates and floor near the Colonel, forcing him to take a few steps back as he waited for the shooters to lose interest in him. Another one of the commandoes fell while the others scattered amongst the crates inside the warehouse, returning fire on the several Dutch soldiers scattered throughout the rest of the warehouse.

At this moment there was a distant explosion and the ground beneath them trembled. A quick glance outside revealed that the other half of Weller's team had just blown up a nearby warehouse, furthering the illusion that this was a mere terrorist attack. It seemed to distract some of the Dutch soldiers up ahead, allowing Weller to step from cover. He clutched his MP5K in his left hand and his MP7 in the right and with both guns in hand he went on to lay down withering fire upon the Dutch soldiers up ahead.

He certainly enjoyed his job, that was for sure. With a determined look on his face he kept up the fire, strafing it across the stacks of crates that the Dutch soldiers had taken cover behind. A few of the soldiers fell while the others ducked behind cover to avoid the stream of fire. Weller took note of the large object underneath the tarp over in the corner, assuming correctly that it was the NBE he had come here to collect.

Weller started walking, spotting a few men in lab-coats up ahead and simply mowing them down with his dual submachine guns. He arrived at the tarp covered object and took a peek underneath, taking note of the Autobot insignia on the shoulders of the NBE. He noticed that it also seemed to bear the black and white cross of the old German Wehrmacht from World War Two, implying that this Autobot had once changed into a German vehicle from that time period.

Suddenly Weller heard some movement behind him and he turned around, sidestepping the blow the Dutch Captain sent his way. The Dutch Captain hadn't been expecting to be discovered and so wasn't able to stop himself in time from his previous momentum, allowing Weller to simply deliver a well-placed jab into the soldier's ribs. This knocked him to the ground and Weller proceeded to aim his MP7 straight into the Dutch Captain's face whilst he tried to figure out what to do with him.

The name on the man's uniform read 'LOCHAEEN' and he was a Captain. He obviously wasn't a very good one since he was now lying on his back, looking straight into the barrel of Weller's MP7. Regardless of the Captain's dire circumstance he seemed unfazed, shooting a hateful glance up at the Colonel.

"Who are you?" He asked in Dutch accented English.

Weller smiled. He liked having people at his mercy and was always quite willing to answer any last questions before he killed them.

"I'm Colonel Francis Weller," the Colonel replied, "I'm on a quest to save the human race. That means I need your precious cargo here." He nodded towards the dead Autobot lying under the tarp but Captain Lochaeen simply looked confused.

"You're American!" The Captain exclaimed, "Why would you be doing this?"

"As I said, for the good of the human race," Weller replied, "and it's my God given duty to ensure the survival of humanity. That means I must remove all alien interlopers from our world and, praise Jesus, I will do it." His finger tightened on the grip of his MP7, the Captain's gaze changing to one that implied that he thought Colonel Weller was nuts.

"I can't allow anyone to get in the way of my God given goal," Weller continued, "even if they are fellow human beings such as yourself."

Weller pulled the MP7's trigger, satisfied that he had gotten his message across. Stepping over the Captain's corpse he watched as his commandoes eliminated the last few Dutch soldiers left, turning to Captain Farnell as he approached.

"Captain, I want this NBE out of here on the double," Weller said, nodding towards the NBE. Farnell nodded, managing a glance at the dead Dutch Captain. Weller noticed this and simply shrugged, managing a smile that made Farnell uneasy.

"He was in the way," Weller said simply in regards to the dead Dutch Captain.


	12. The Priest

**The Priest  
**Somewhere in the New Mexico desert  
December 14th, 2010

The New Mexico sun beat down upon the rolling desert plains and rocks, heating up the air and creating an undoubtedly hot landscape. Nestled in a stinking hot valley near a large mesa was the long abandoned town of Morgue, once a bustling mining town but now it was nothing but a ghost town. It certainly gave the impression of being abandoned from afar but as some people knew all too well, looks could be deceiving.

Speeding along a dirt road and into the valley was a single beaten up 1972 Chevrolet Camaro, the type of old bomb of a car that had trouble starting up and tended to leave thick plumes of smoke behind it as its engine coughed into life. There was no air conditioner in the old car so the driver had thoughtfully rolled down all of the side windows in order to air out the vehicle in the stinking New Mexico heat. As the car sped along it left a thick cloud of smoke behind it, highlighting its existence to any faraway observers. Fortunately there was no one watching the beaten old yellow car speed along, further hinting at the fact that no one was actually in residence in the town of Morgue.

Seated in the driver's seat was an African-American man of medium statue, built like someone who worked out regularly. This was more or less what he did, ensuring that he stayed fit regardless of what he did. He was dressed in a black priest's outfit with its white collar and cuffs. It was only a tad hot in such an outfit but he was used to it, always proud to wear such an outfit regardless of the weather outside.

His name was James Turner and he was fifty-two years old with an authoritative look about him that commanded the attention of others. He had some well maintained stubble on and around his chin which was slowly forming into a close fitting beard. His eyes were a light brown while his close-cropped black hair had been turning grey at the sides, hinting at his age.

James Turner was a priest at the Tranquility Uniting Church, a position he had held for most of his life. He was always the type willing to make a memorable sermon but it was surprising just how few people showed up on a Sunday to his services. It seemed that people these days weren't as religious as they used to be, something that further hinted at an ever changing world.

It had been about thirty years ago that James had first encountered the beings that he had been seeking out since then. He had come face to face with some sort of metal monstrosity during a camping trip with his father and had since spent his life tracking down any evidence of their existence. He could remember the day well and what had happened but after that he had been unable to find any evidence of them, even after he had devoted himself to exposing the government cover ups involved. He knew that the government had been hiding the existence of these aliens for more than eighty years so he was devoted to exposing their existence to the public by any means possible.

In a line of work like this James had gotten used to the dangers involved. He had also earned a number of reliable sources and had set up his own website in his spare time to further speculate on the existence of a race of sentient alien machines.

What brought him all the way out to a ghost town in the New Mexico desert? Well, it was because of a tip-off from one of these sources that he had received the night before that he had departed Tranquility and driven all the way out here. Usually he would have been sceptical to the reliability of such a tip-off but the source was perhaps the most reliable he had, coming from someone who had refused to give any name but apparently had their own website as well. It was from this that James had found that his source preferred the rather lame sounding name "RoboWarrior".

According to him there was something going down in this town that he would be interested in. As a result James had packed the necessary items and had departed Tranquility shortly after receiving the call the night before, spending hours on the road as he drove out to the New Mexico desert. It was a long drive from Tranquility to the ghost town of Morgue but James was determined to see this through if it meant exposing government cover ups to the world.

It was hefty job, trying to expose something as secretive as this to the rest of the world. However, James would be happy if he only ever managed to convince a few people of their existence. He was doing all of this more to satisfy his own nagging curiosity than anything else and he was quite sure to the truthfulness of this tip-off. He had been told to make sure he arrived at Morgue prior to midday, something he seemed to have succeeded in.

Rather than simply drive straight into the town and make his presence obvious to anyone who may have been hiding out there, he took a sharp turn up onto the ridge that ran alongside the town and provided the best view of the whole place. James pulled to a stop upon the ridge and took a moment to gather his surroundings, removing a folded up map from his car's glove box. He unfolded it and managed to pinpoint his location, taking note of how the ghost town of morgue was actually lacking from the map itself. This was somewhat understandable since the town had been abandoned over forty years ago but it also hinted that someone had gone to some lengths to make sure the town remained abandoned and forgotten, keeping it off maps of the region.

James knew where he was judging by the landforms marked on the map and the ones he could see around him. Satisfied, he put the map away and removed a pair of binoculars from the same glove-box. If his most reliable source was right, which it usually was, then it wouldn't be long before something started happening that James would be quite interested in.

As well as binoculars James removed a digital camera, an item that would no doubt be necessary for what he was waiting for to occur. Photos would be the proof he needed, even if most people instantly assumed that photos of aliens were fakes.

James pushed open his side's door, stepping out into the hot desert heat. He put the binoculars up to his eyes and peered through at the town below, noticing the boarded up windows on most of the buildings. However, a closer look at the hotel close to the centre of the town implied that the bards upon the windows had been taken down and to further hint that someone was in residence there a military grade Jeep was parked outside. James zoomed in upon the Jeep, taking note of how there was no discerning insignia anywhere on the vehicle. Whoever owned it had gone to the right lengths to ensure that no one could figure out who they worked for simply by what symbols were displayed on the vehicle.

Immediately James knew who to expect. In the past he had encountered Colonel Weller before, often at the sites of presumed alien incursions. They had met in Shanghai last year, after the supposed "gas leak" that had killed about a hundred people and destroyed several buildings. Of course, even James was smart enough to know it had been no mere gas leak and that a major cover up had been put into place over this possible alien incursion.

It seemed that Colonel Weller was in charge of some sort of organization that was often the first on the scene after a presumed alien incursion. Not only did they have the habit of going around in unmarked vehicles but they also managed to confiscate any alien remains that may have been left lying around.

James didn't know of anybody else who went around in unmarked vehicles so he was safe to assume that it was Colonel Weller and his organization of black ops soldiers. This meant that there was already some truth in what RoboWarrior had said since James was quite interested in this secretive black ops organization. He didn't know their name or what they did exactly but he knew that it was the sort of thing that conspiracy nuts like him made websites about.

The front door of the hotel opened and out stepped a soldier in a recognizable black and grey uniform. James crouched down behind a dry desert bush to keep himself out of sight, peering through his binoculars towards the soldier and trying to make out any sort of marking insignia. The binoculars James had were rather expensive high powered ones he had managed to buy off of the Internet since such an item would be a requirement in the work he did. Sure, he was a priest…but he was also an alien chaser as well.

He saw the arm-patch on the soldier's uniform and immediately recognized the '7' insignia. However, what struck him as odd was how this number '7' had been hastily changed into an '8'. Now it was obvious that Sector Seven had changed…to Sector Eight. It wasn't too imaginative to say the least, but these government types had never been very creative.

James had been in Mission City when the so-called "advanced combat drones" broke loose and demolished a few buildings. He knew better, of course. The drone thing was simply a hasty cover up, organized by the organization known as Sector Seven. James had known about the existence of the organization since coming into contact with RoboWarrior, learning that they had once researched the aliens before being disbanded a few years ago. That was why he and RoboWarrior were interested in what was going on with Weller and his black ops organization. It seemed that they had been operating as another Sector Seven ever since the organization's presumed disbandment. Not only that but now they had taken on the name of "Sector Eight" just to emphasize the fact that they had changed.

James continued to watch as the soldier sat down on an old wooden chair out the front of the hotel and retrieved a carton of cigarettes from a pocket, putting one into his mouth and using a cigarette lighter to light the end. James lost interest in watching the soldier take some time off his job and started surveying the rest of the presumed ghost town, taking note of the garage next to the hotel and how it was opening. The garage door slid open and a group of soldiers milled out, lead by the man that James recognized as Colonel Weller. They all stepped out onto the street before heading along to the dry lakebed next to the town. James lost sight of them as they disappeared behind a row of buildings so he immediately lowered the binoculars, deciding that he would have to follow them. It was his best chance at getting to the bottom of what was going on here.

Of course, James hadn't been able to survive this long doing this sort of thing without being prepared. He leaned back into his car and opened the glove box, retrieving the Colt 1911 pistol he had stored inside. He tucked it away inside his jacket, hoping that he wouldn't have to use it. If all went well he wouldn't have to but it was there just in case.

James headed down the ridge, staying low as he made his way to the rear of the line of buildings on the nearest side of the town's main street. He leaned around the building and down the alley, making sure that the way across the street was clear before heading out.

The soldier out the front of the hotel was too absorbed in talking with a fellow soldier that neither he nor his friend noticed the man in the priest's garb sneak across the street and duck behind some old wooden crates. James watched the two soldiers as they seemed to finish their break, the pair heading back inside the hotel and leaving the streets unguarded.

The sound of voices filtered from somewhere beyond the hotel and its garage, echoing up from the area near the dry lakebed. James followed the vices, ducking amongst some boulders near the edge of the lakebed and raising his binoculars to his eyes again. By the edge of the lakebed, near what was a wall of seemingly solid rock stood Colonel Weller and some of his favourite goons. The stern and gruff looking Colonel didn't seem at all bothered by the New Mexico heat but his subordinates weren't coping well, doing their best to fan themselves and stay in the little shade available.

Whatever they were doing they all seemed to be waiting. There were about five of them in total, one of them dressed in a white lab-coat which lead James to assume that he was the scientist of the bunch. There was another guy standing with him, a bureaucratic looking man in a suit who was probably the businessman of the bunch. Whatever it was they were waiting for it hadn't happened yet. Instead, they were all getting a bit restless.

James remained where he was, watching through his binoculars. There was no doubt in his mind that he had stumbled upon something important, thanks to his one really reliable source that he had been in contact with for the past year and a half. Of course, he had no idea on what these guys could possibly be waiting for but he was certainly going to stay around to find out.

_Damn black ops and their cover-ups,_ he thought absently, lowering his binoculars, _why can't they just tell the public what they deserve to know? Why keep this entire thing secret?_

It seemed oddly appropriate that the ghost town that these black ops guys had chosen was named 'Morgue'. It was amusing, in a morbid sort of way. And it was by far a fitting name for a town that hadn't had residents for over forty years and had once been the sight of an apparent chemical spill. James doubted that this was what really had happened since he knew by far that a favourite cover story by the government for alien incursions was a chemical spill.

He was pondering these things when his thoughts were interrupted by the distant _chop-chop_ of helicopter blades. They were faint, hinting that the helicopter in question was far away but they were gradually gaining in volume. He saw that the group waiting by the edge of the lakebed had turned towards the north and so James did the same, watching as a large cargo helicopter flew into view over the mesa up ahead. Hanging from a cable was a large; it was perhaps twenty-five feet tall and bipedal with its own pair of arms and legs. Immediately James began snapping photographs of the metal monstrosity as the helicopter hovered overhead, the pilot releasing its dangling cargo which in turn hit the lakebed with a dull _thump!_

The metal creature looked dead; there was no doubt about that. Its drop from about ten feet didn't do anything to wake it up, instead its motionless body simply kicked up sand and dust as it hit the ground. Immediately Colonel Weller and those with him approached it, talking amongst themselves as they surveyed their latest find. The helicopter above went buzzing away, probably heading back to whatever military base it had flown in from.

James took up his digital camera and zoomed in on the dead metal monstrosity, snapping several more photos. He could make out the dull blue pinpoints that were the creature's eyes as well as the obvious armour plating that appeared to belong to some sort of armoured vehicle and an old one at that. At one shoulder was the black and white cross emblem that one often saw on old German tanks and vehicles from World War Two, a fact that perplexed James slightly.

He had stumbled upon the sheer proof he needed and as such could feel his heart thumping in his chest. His curiosity began to overwhelm him, telling him that he was best off to take a closer look.

One of the soldiers standing with the Colonel stepped over to the rock wall of the lakebed, seeming to move a certain rock. Immediately the wall parted and revealed what appeared to be the beginning of an underground tunnel beyond where several men in hardhats and matching uniforms milled out. A few heavy duty pick-up trucks followed, the three of them pulling to a stop outside the sneakily hidden loading bay. James watched as the workers grabbed the wire cabling on the pickup trucks and proceeded to attach it to the dead robot, making sure the connections were secure before the pickup trucks started driving back into the hangar, dragging the dead robot along with them.

Weller and his friends watched as the robot was dragged into the tunnel before going inside themselves. Inside the tunnel it was obvious that there was some sort of major operation going on and that these black ops types had been keeping the existence of these aliens secret for quite a long time.

James waited for the group to head into the underground tunnel before he stepped out of his hiding spot, edging along the lakebed whilst staying low amongst the boulders. There was a lone engineer in a hard-hat and blue-grey overalls who was standing outside the opened entrance, fiddling with the opening mechanism that had been disguised as a small rock. He seemed to be having trouble, swearing quietly under his breath when it refused to budge.

James managed to get close to the annoyed and sweating worker, immediately coming up with a hasty scheme in his mind. Inside the tunnel the dead robot was being hauled further into the underground tunnel by the pickup trucks that were dragging it along the floor, carelessly scraping it along the rock.

Without any hesitation James stood up and grabbed the worker from behind, covering his mouth with one hand before casually ripping off his hardhat and whacking him in the back of the head with the butt of the Colt pistol. The worker went unconscious within seconds, barely putting up a struggle against the strong grip of James Turner since he had been taken completely off-guard.

James had no problem subduing anyone he had to; he just didn't like the idea of killing when he didn't have to. Sure, he had been in a few tough scrapes before but he had usually managed to get out of them without firing a shot. He was hoping today would be no different.

It only took him a few minutes to drag the unconscious worker into some shade amongst some rocks, James casually taking off his jacket and donning the workers overalls. He put on the hardhat to complete the image as well, making sure that he looked disguised enough to get around without arousing suspicion.

James headed into the artificially made tunnel, taking note of how it seemed to be at least a decade or so old. The cement floor had seen much wear and tear since it was laid out and many of the lights that lined the ceiling had ceased working. James passed a few of the other hardhat wearing workers, managing to nod to a few as he walked past. He was beginning to enjoy this, donning a disguise and heading into the heart of a black ops hideout. It was all quite exciting and a definite change of pace from all of the other mostly fruitless trips he had been on while following tip-offs.

He would have to thank RoboWarrior when he called him back after today. That source's tip-off had been all too accurate about there being something "important" occurring in this place at around about this time. James only had to get through today without being discovered by Colonel Weller or any of his goons.

The tunnel opened up into a vast underground hangar that seemed to be right underneath the town of morgue, perhaps having been here for decades. The United States Marine Corps insignia on some old metal containers and on the walls implied that it had once served as a sort of bunker and/or headquarters since it was decommissioned, only to become a centre of operations for Colonel Weller's black ops force. This vast hangar was filled with metal containers, both old and new while the dead robot had been laid out towards the centre of the cavernous room. Weller and his group were standing near it as men in lab-coats and workers in hardhats milled around, going about their own business. At the other side of the hangar was set up all sorts of machinery, some of it looking high-tech indeed. Computer banks were off in one corner, with a large main-screen on the wall ahead of this partition. This screen was currently displaying a map of the world while technicians manned the computers below it, talking into headsets and more or less running what appeared to be a global operation.

James realized he would need to find a good place to take some more pictures. Walking around holding a camera would undoubtedly be looked on as suspicious by those that worked here so he would have to be subtle about it, preferably locating some sort of hiding place that gave him a good view of this entire hangar-like expanse.

He started towards the more open centre part of the hangar where the dead robot had been laid out. It was now that James noticed that long metal cylindrical device clutched in the robot's right hand and it was this particular item that got the priest's attention.

However, he was unable to do much about it since a gruff and annoyed voice called to him from his right. James turned and saw what appeared to be the man in charge of the worker's contingent, dressed in a slightly different outfit and wearing a hardhat. James thought it best to actually react to the boss worker's shouts, heading over to where he stood which was only a short distance from where the dead robot lay.

"Hey, you!" The boss worker shouted. The tag on his overalls read the name of 'KESSLER'. Kessler didn't seem too pleased, a frown on his face while he clutched a clipboard close to his chest with his left arm.

"Yes?" James realized he was probably twice this guy's age but if the boss worker saw anything suspicious about him he wasn't showing any sign of it.

"Take this set of readings and deliver it to Professor Vine," Kessler ordered, handing James the clipboard. A glance down at the papers on it revealed it to be nothing but a list of readings and a list of equipment that was to be ordered within the week.

"Professor Vine?" James made this question sound like he was simply clarifying the order and not that he had no idea who this Professor Vine guy was.

"Yeah, he's just come in to replace Dr. Paulson," Kessler replied, "You'll find him speaking to the Colonel. He's probably going to make a few last minute adjustments to the equipment orders on the second page and if he does you report straight back to me, alright?"

James nodded, watching as Kessler turned around and disappeared around the corner of a stack of metal containers. Once he was gone James turned his attention back to the dead robot, able to take in the whole form of the metal biped up close. It would have been tall and imposing if it was standing up but now it was lying motionless, looking battered and beaten from battles fought in the past.

It had been this alien race that had attacked Mission City, Shanghai and Egypt, as well as a whole host of other places in between. Not only had the government poorly covered it up but it seemed that they were in the process of reverse-engineering the technology these alien robots brought with them. Another dead alien robot in a government black ops facility wouldn't be an uncommon occurrence. James, having infiltrated this particular outpost, figured he should get right on the job of gathering evidence.

He heard some voices up ahead, watching as Colonel Weller appeared from around a corner speaking with a lab-coated scientist. Weller stopped by the dead robot, looking thoughtfully at it as he puffed gently on a Cuban cigar. The scientist, however, continued straight to James and caught the disguised priest and conspiracy nut off guard.

"Are those the readings?" The scientist asked, "And the equipment orders?"

James realized he was referring to the papers on the clipboard. He looked towards the rather authoritative looking scientist with the greying sideburns, glasses and dark hair and so simply handed the clipboard over. The name tag on the scientist's lab-coat had the name VINE printed on it, so James assumed that this guy was the Professor Vine guy that Kessler had mentioned.

"Everything appears to be in order here," Vine said, handing the clipboard and its accompanying papers back to James, "make sure those orders are filled out and ready to go."

"Yes, sir," James replied, doing his best to sound convincing. Vine didn't even manage a second glance at him as he walked on past, Weller turning around from his reverie of thought and continuing in the wake of the Professor.

James and Weller's eyes met and for a moment James thought he had been recognized. The disguised priest tensed, awaiting the expected exposing of his disguise but Weller simply walked straight past, losing interest in the seemingly normal worker. With both the Colonel and the Professor gone, James was left along in this part of the hangar to do what he had come for.

James slipped his camera out of his overalls and snapped a few photos of the motionless robot, making sure to get a few close-ups of the face and of the whole thing in general. It was then he remembered the cylindrical object that the alien had been holding in its right hand and so James stepped towards it, managing the slide the object out of the robot's stiff cold metal grip.

The device was surprisingly light and etched with all manner of weird symbols. Not only that but there were a few transparent lines within the sides that seemed to be pulsing with a blue-white energy. In fact, the device itself was vibrating slightly and emitting a faint hum, as if it was some sort of power source. Curious, James peered at the symbols that ran down its length, running his finger across and finding the device warm to the touch.

Why the robot had been clutching it, he had no idea. However, he was willing to store this particular find away as a souvenir of his trip here. Without further delay he looked around for a way to smuggle out the device, finding an old wooden crate which was large enough to fit the device inside. Closing the lid he managed to avoid being seen as Weller and Vine appeared from around the corner of a stack of metal containers, followed by a pair of armed soldiers.

For a moment James thought he had been found out but he was relieved when he saw Weller and his cohorts stop by the motionless robot. The two soldiers were holding a small metal box which they set down onto the floor, as if preparing something, perhaps a device to take readings from the dead robot.

James decided to watch to see what happened, even if he was risking being discovered. Besides, he had the feeling that he wouldn't be finished in this place anytime soon. There was simply too much to be found out with this facility acting as a literal treasure trove of secrets that the government had been keeping hidden from public eyes. It deserved a look around, that was for certain.

* * *

**A/N:** I've always wanted to have a priest as a character in a story of mine, especially one who's a bit of an alien nut. And hence we are introduced to Father James Turner, African-American priest who's been searching for the truth behind the alien robots for years. For those of you who don't know, "RoboWarrior" is just Agent Simmons' Internet name. But I'm sure most of you readers would know that, anyway.


	13. Resurrection

**Resurrection  
**Somewhere under the New Mexico desert  
December 14th, 2010

There was a faint flicker of life within the Autobot known as Deadeye. The spark of a Cybertronian was self repairing but could often take thousands of years to repair major damage, hence Deadeye could officially be classed as "dead" by those that knew little of his kind. To him, he would occasionally have flashes of memory that seemed more like dreams within his deep state of hibernation.

He was dimly aware of the activity around him, barely managing consciousness. He couldn't move, lacking the energy to do so. Within, his spark was slowly repairing his inner systems after the unexpected overload he had received from Centurion's mysterious device. All the Autobot needed was something to help him along with these repairs, something that would give him the energy he needed to reach consciousness fully.

Standing near the seemingly dead Autobot was Colonel Francis Weller, a cigar at the corner of his mouth while he looked thoughtfully at the deceased robot. It hadn't taken much to relieve the Dutch of this find and Weller had arranged it to be brought straight here without being discovered by those annoying NEST types. They would have no doubt interfered greatly with his overall plans concerning this recent find of a deceased Autobot, hence the reason why NEST had to be kept out of the picture for as long as possible. He doubted most of those NEST types would be pleased about Weller's operations here, having already resurrected and killed the Autobot known as "Jazz". He was sure the other Autobots who worked with NEST would have been overjoyed to have a resurrected friend of theirs fighting with them but Weller hadn't been about to give them that.

Weller despised the machine race that, ever since coming to Earth, had tried on two occasions to wipe out humanity. It was this reason that Weller was determined to remove all Cybertronians from Earth, but first he needed information. He needed to find out more about the ruins that had been found in Venezuela, the very ruins that had since been sealed off. He needed to find out a way to get inside for he was certain that the treasure trove of alien technology stored within would be more than enough to remove the Autobots and Decepticons off of this world. He just needed to find a way to open the ancient sealed entrance and he was certain that one of the Autobots would know…he just needed to work out which one. He was already considering a possible "kidnapping" operation using prototype reverse-engineered technology to capture themselves one of the Autobots from NEST…and he had already dispatched men to Tranquility, Nevada in order to track down the one known as "Bumblebee".

For now they would have to settle on this particular Autobot, whoever he was. Already workers were attaching strong steel cables to his arms and legs in preparation for the coming resurrection, ensuring that they were secured to the nearby wall. With these in place the Autobot wouldn't be able to escape and would have no other option but to listen to what he had to say.

This time around Weller hadn't the patience to use the potentially dangerous "harnessing device". Instead, he had chosen something a bit faster and definitely more effective. Of course, the plan had its sceptics such as Professor Vine but Weller was the one in charge here and he didn't have to pay any attention to his sceptics.

Professor Kyle Vine stood near Weller, watching as the two soldiers arrived with a small lead lined case. Vine had once worked with Sector Seven, having worked on resurrecting the "deceased" Decepticon known as "Wreckage". Not only that but he had been presumed dead in a battle shortly afterwards when Wreckage had been accidentally brought to life by a shard of the All-spark. However, Vine hadn't been killed, merely injured and so was forced to spend a month or two in hospital to recover.

Vine had been just as annoyed as Weller when Sector Seven had been disbanded and for a while Vine had worked on other government projects, ones that didn't have the same sort of excitement to do with them. There had been no alien robots in these government projects, most had been to do with satellites and probes that would be sent to Mars. Vine knew he was better than working on "dull" projects such as these and had only just recently gotten himself a position as the lead researcher in Weller's organization. He had replaced Dr. Paulson, a man whom Weller had found incredibly annoying to work with and hadn't been getting the results that the Colonel had wanted in the time-frame he had preferred.

Weller knew Vine from their days at Sector Seven. Vine was capable of getting the job done while following his superior's orders to the letter, unlike Paulson who had had a habit of questioning what Weller told him to do. Of course, Vine was scientifically minded and thus he seemed to find flaws in everything Weller had planned thus far. He didn't see the use in resurrecting this Autobot but Weller would prefer it over trying to find a living one, such as Bumblebee. So far they had received no word on their search for that particular Autobot and by now Weller doubted that they would ever find him. Hence, they would have to make the most of the Autobots they had. They only had one though and it was dead, a minor obstacle that they would have to overcome if they were to get anywhere in this operation.

Standing to Weller's right was Theodore Galloway, a bureaucratic looking man who wore glasses and was dressed in a business suit. He had once been a National Security Advisor and had almost shutdown NEST the year before, a move that Weller would have appreciated immensely. Of course, Weller despised bureaucrats, especially government ones but it seemed that Galloway had arrived here today with news to do with NEST.

According to him, NEST had only just left for Holland (also known as the Netherlands) in pursuit of a possible Decepticon sighting. It turned out that there had not been one Cybertronian but two and that the Dutch government had already stored the other in a secret facility near the Barrier Dam in the north of their country. Weller was only slightly fazed by learning this, figuring that would be where they would head next if they didn't make any progress with this Autobot.

Weller was determined they wouldn't have to go all the way back to Holland, feeling quite confident that they would find out what they needed from this particular Autobot. The last thing Weller needed was to encounter NEST while out in the field because he was certain that a definite fight would erupt. Currently Weller's forces were awaiting a number of equipment upgrades from their standard military gear and it would be a while before those arrived, hence why they needed to tread lightly wherever NEST was concerned.

The two soldiers who had just arrived set the lead lined case onto the floor, one of them bending over and opening it. The reason the case was lead lined was because of the radiation that was emitted by the device inside: though not lethal amounts, enough exposure could make somebody feel a little ill.

Within the case was the last known fragment of the All-spark, retrieved from an aircraft museum that had been promptly trashed by an escaped alien robot the year before. If Weller's sources had been correct then it had been Sam Witwicky and former Sector Seven Agent Simmons who had been responsible for that occurrence, having managed to disable the security personnel before resurrecting some alien robot that had been in residence at the aircraft museum.

It was known from experience that when a piece of the All-spark was used it wasn't destroyed; it was simply hard to find in the ensuing chaos afterwards. It had probably been pure luck that one of Weller's men had found this small sliver of the alien artefact which had simply been lying upon the floor in the museum near where an old Blackbird jet had once been parked as an exhibit.

Weller knelt down and reached into the lead-lined case, able to feel the warmth that the All-spark piece was emitting. Without hesitation he grabbed it with one hand, half-expecting to be burnt but being surprised when nothing happened. He slowly drew it out of the case, standing up and ensuring that he clutched it tightly. These things had a habit of flying out of one's grip and straight to the nearest piece of technology in order to bring it to life, thus Weller was clutching it firmly.

Vine watched with some uncertainty as Weller peered at the sliver of the All-spark, able to make out the strange alien characters that seemed to be etched on one side. The rest was simply rough edges and the like, making it certain that it had once been part of something bigger and perhaps more important. Unfortunately the All-spark itself had been destroyed by…Sam Witwicky. It seemed that Weller's plans had been thrown into jeopardy on more than one occasion by that meddling kid and his friends.

_I'll get back at him some day,_ Weller thought, _but until then, I have better things to do._

"Are you sure about this, Colonel?" Vine asked, frowning behind his glasses, "I have had experience with the All-spark before…it can be unpredictable…"

"Would you rather waste time with the harnessing device, Professor?" Weller asked, "because I certainly wouldn't. This is the fastest and easiest way we can bring the big boy here back to life…Just because you had some sort of bad experience with alien artefacts it doesn't mean you can stop everybody else from using them. Is that clear?"

The Professor nodded, although he still looked worried. He wasn't about to go ahead and question the Colonel though, so he didn't reply. The Colonel, satisfied that he had gotten his point across took a step toward the alien carcass. He regarded the All-spark sliver and then the alien corpse, realizing that what he was about to do had much risk to it. Of course, he hadn't gotten this far in his career without taking his fair share of risks. In fact, some would say that he had built his entire career on risk-taking.

Weller gripped the All-spark shard between his thumb and forefinger, able to feel it vibrate and warm up the closer it came to the alien carcass. The nearer it went the warmer it became and the more it vibrated. All it would take was a single glancing touch and it would bring the alien robot back to life, re-igniting the very spark that had kept the robot alive in the first place.

By now the cables attached to the Autobot's arms and legs were secured, thus ensuring that it wouldn't try any moves to escape. Weller held out the All-spark shard, feeling it vibrate in his fingers the nearer it came to the dead Autobot. He pulled it back when it was only centimetres from the Autobot when Galloway spoke, voicing his doubts as he usually did.

"What do you expect this alien is going to be able to tell you?" Galloway asked, pushing his glasses a little further up his nose with one hand, "I mean…what makes you think he knows about what's in Venezuela?"

"There's only one way to find out what he knows," Weller replied, rolling his eyes. The interruption was only delaying him more, something that annoyed him.

"And so bringing him back to life is the best you could come up with?" Galloway asked, "Why couldn't you just find a living alien robot…?"

"Tell me where I can find one of those," Weller demanded, whilst frowning. "I can't take any of the ones that work with NEST and so far we haven't been able to find any others that may be on Earth, so we're sort of stuck with the dead ones. How about you just shut up and let me do my job, alright Galloway?"

Galloway went to speak but realized that he had nothing to say so he fell silent. Weller was now satisfied that he had effectively shut the bureaucrat up and so turned back to the dead Autobot, contemplating whether or not he should use the All-spark sliver or not. He reached out with it and pulled it back, repeating this move a few times just to feel the shard vibrate in his fingers and heat up the nearer it went to the Autobot.

He managed a glance over at Professor Vine who seemed to be growing impatient. Weller smiled, putting the sliver close and retracting it a few more times before he finally let it go. The shard shot right out of his hand and slammed into the side of the dead Autobot, bouncing right off once it had released its energy.

Immediately a wave of blue-white light shot across the Autobot's corpse and the robot itself jerked involuntarily. Vine and Galloway took a surprised jump backwards but Weller stood his ground, simply watching with amazement as life returned to the once deceased Autobot. The Autobot's blue eyes lit up and immediately he went to sit up but found the cables restricted his movement, disallowing him from even sitting up. Instinctively the Autobot tugged at the cables attached to his arms but found that they were quite rigid.

Weller composed himself, making sure to pick up the sliver of the All-spark from where it had fallen to the floor. Without much thought he pocketed it, forgetting about the radiation that the alien artefact emitted. His mind was currently preoccupied with thoughts to do with the recently resurrected Autobot and so Weller reached into his pockets and retrieved some photos of the ruins found in Venezuela, figuring he would try the approach he had taken with Jazz the day before.

* * *

James Turner simply watched in amazement from the corner of the room as the Colonel used the silver shard to bring the dead alien robot back to life. James had been watching and listening to Colonel Weller and the others with him, standing some distance away while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He was disguised as one of the basic workers of this facility and had managed to find himself his own alien artefact which he had packed into a wooden box. He now carried that box tucked under one arm.

Without much thought James pulled out his digital camera with his right hand, taking several photos of the robot as it struggled against the cables that held it. He had a good idea of what black ops people such as Weller would do to alien prisoners and he wasn't about to stand by idly and watch the interrogation begin. No life-form deserved to be tied down and treated like a prisoner and so James quickly decided on what he would do.

He would keep the artefact he had retrieved from the once dead robot. He wouldn't give it up which meant he would have to remain disguised. Nor was he about to leave without doing something to help the alien prisoner, even if he was overcome with astonishment as the sheer existence of such a creature. How could a machine by so complicated and be so human in its appearance? Sure, it was metal and all…but the eyes, they were what made it look human. They were blue and innocent, as if the alien robot itself was the type people would want to have as a friend and not an enemy. The thought that maybe this was a "good" alien robot crossed James' mind, furthering his own thoughts about what to do to help it.

The Colonel began asking questions while flashing some photos at the robot, as if he thought it would recognize whatever was in the photos. The robot spoke in a rather human-sounding voice, albeit a bit deeper than most human males. There was a noticeable British twang to it, as if it was from some central part of the United Kingdom or had watched one too many British crime movies. James realized just how absurd this was but he managed to keep his composure as he watched from across the open section of the underground hangar-like expanse, taking a few more pictures of the robot before pocketing his digital camera.

James saw that one of the cables, this particular one attached to the robot's right arm, trailed off past him before becoming hooked onto a sort of bolt in the rock wall. Without much thought James stepped over to where the cable met the bolt, setting down the wooden box in order to allow himself full movement of his arms.

It was high tensile steel cable he had to deal with so rather than attempt to break it he decided to try and untie it. There were a number of small hooks he had to undo first, trying to do all of this while keeping a low profile. A few workers wandered past but they didn't pay him any attention, James managing to get his hands off of the cable as they walked past and pretending to simply be standing around while taking a break. Once those workers had gone James went back to work, finally releasing the last of the steel hooks that connected the cable to the bolt in the wall. Satisfied, he turned around to watch and listen as the interrogation of the alien prisoner continued.

James had been preparing most of his life for a moment like this. Over thirty years ago he had encountered something similar, just a tad smaller, while on a trip out in the woods with his father one night. Ever since then he had dedicated himself to proving the existence of alien life while following a faith he believed in. It was his God-given duty to show the public just what the government was hiding from them. And it was people like Colonel Weller that James had to bring down.

James was watching the interrogation when he heard a stern voice sound from somewhere behind him. He turned around only to find that one of the soldiers was standing a short distance behind him and was looking at the disconnected cable in disbelief.

"Hey! Why the hell is that cable undone?" The soldier demanded. James saw the insignia of Captain on the soldier's uniform, figuring that this guy was probably one of the better soldiers in this black ops force. Swallowing nervously, James tried to look innocent.

"I was just about to fix it," James lied, picking up the wooden box which contained the alien artefact. The Captain watched him, noticing the box and stepping forwards.

"What's in that box?" The Captain demanded.

James went to open it, removing the alien artefact inside. He smiled coyly at the Captain's wide-eyed reaction to seeing the artefact, just before James threw the box at his face. It slammed right into the Captain's nose, causing him to stumble back and yell suddenly. Blood trickled from his broken nose and this momentary lapse in concentration allowed James to seize his chance of escape.

Still clutching the cylindrical artefact, James turned around and started sprinting. He realized that the disguise would do little and so managed to tear off the overalls as he ran, heading back towards the tunnel had had used to enter. Behind him he could hear shouts as soldiers reacted but he kept running, knocking over a few workers as he went.

_Well, I've certainly done it now_, he thought to himself. At least he still had the evidence in the form of the camera and the alien artefact. All he had to do was get outside and back to his car without being shot.

Thankfully, the black ops men were soon distracted by something far more threatening.

* * *

Only minutes earlier Colonel Weller stood looking at the recently resurrected Autobot, waving at it to get its attention. The robot's bright blue eyes shifted to him and Weller sensed a hint of agitation from the Autobot.

"Hi there," Weller said, smiling, "I'm Colonel Francis Weller…"

"Where am I?" The Autobot's voice had a slight British sounding twang to it, something that left Weller bemused but it was otherwise understandable since all the other robots tended to take n human personas as well. This one was perhaps no different.

Weller decided he would take this particular questioning a little slower than the one he had done with the now dead Autobot Jazz. It was obvious that this particular Autobot had been out of it for quite a while, perhaps since World War Two judging from the German army insignia he had at his shoulders. No doubt this Autobot was capable of changing into some sort of old German armoured vehicle, implying that he had been on this world for decades.

"You're underneath the New Mexico desert," Weller replied. He could see that Vine and Galloway were standing a few paces back, as if afraid of the robot. This was understandable since both men had had experience with the Cybertronians in the past and were probably only a slightly cautious when it came to working with them. Weller, however, was unfazed and would remain so if all things went to plan.

"Where's George?" The Autobot sounded confused and slightly worried, as if it was only beginning to realize its predicament.

The name George rang a bell, however. George was in fact the name of Weller's grandfather, a British man who had served during the Second World War. He had often told of his encounter with an intelligent "metal monster", one that had taken the name of "Deadeye" and had been fighting some other, evil robot…

That's when it struck him. This Autobot was most likely the one his grandfather had encountered all those years ago in the Dutch city of Arnhem…it was probably because of his grandfather's stories about it that Weller had become interested in the existence of alien life in the first place. Of course, the encounter had taken its toll on his grandfather and eventually the old man had ended up in a nursing home, rambling on about all the things the robot had told him and how it had simply "disappeared" one day in a brilliant white flash. Many people thought his grandfather was crazy…maybe he was but even so the stories he had told had fascinated Francis Weller immensely.

Of course, Weller had far more pressing issues at hand. Why this robot had suddenly shown up in Holland decades after its disappearance was beyond him but he assumed some sort of advanced alien technology was involved, presumably the sort that could…travel time. Now he realized that things were getting damn stupid. He liked to keep an open mind but time travel? Even that was far-fetched.

"If you're referring to the George I know of, he's long dead," Weller said, "in fact, you've been dead yourself for quite a while. Understandably, some things have changed…"

The Autobot shook its head, taking in its surroundings and the potentially hostile humans near it.

"I haven't been dead," the Autobot replied, "just repairing myself." He managed a glance at its right hand and then its left, as if looking for something. Weller noticed this and raised an eyebrow, curious as to what it was looking for.

"Lost something?" He asked, frowning. He couldn't recall seeing anything clutched in the alien's hands…then again the alien had fairly large metal hands. Something could have been easily hidden inside a clenched fist.

"I had it…Centurion's device…" The Autobot sounded worried. Weller stepped forward, curious as to what device it had mentioned.

"What device?" Weller demanded, "And who's 'Centurion'?"

The Autobot didn't answer. Weller suddenly grew impatient, stamping one foot on the floor in annoyance. He knew getting angry wouldn't speed things up but he was getting damned annoyed at the lack of progress that was being made.

"I must have dropped it," the Autobot said with realization. He looked towards Weller, the dislike noticeable on its metal features. "What year is it, in your human terms?"

"2010," Weller replied matter-of-factly, "why?"

"It was 1944 when I was last awake." The Autobot paused for a moment, thinking this through. "Centurion was right…it was a time displacement field we were caught in."

"Who is Centurion?" Weller was getting angry now. He was more than capable of being patient but right now the lack of answers he was getting was beginning to piss him off. In fact, it seemed that the Autobot had been asking the questions and not the other way around as Weller would have preferred it.

There was no answer. Weller decided to try a different approach, flashing the photographs of the ruins in Venezuela at the Autobot.

"Do you know what this place is?" Weller asked, referring to the photos, "have you seen it before?"

The Autobot didn't seem to look at the photos. In fact, it became aware of a sudden lack of tension at the cable attached to its right arm…and immediately took advantage of it. Weller saw that the cable had been somehow loosened but he had no idea how…

Immediately Professor Vine and Galloway took a few steps back while Weller stood where he was, watching as the Autobot reached over to the cable on its other arm and simply plucked the annoying thing right off.

_What? How did this happen?_ Weller felt the rage building up inside of him, just as several soldiers went running past in pursuit of a worker. This occurrence was mostly ignored by Weller as he watched the Autobot pluck the cables from its legs. It rose to its feet, standing tall and proud in the centre of the vast hangar-like expanse. Immediately it peered down at the Colonel, dislike crossing its metallic features. The blue eyes seemed somewhat gentler, however.

Weller realized that he was in a bit of trouble now. Slowly but surely he took a step backward, the thought crossing his mind that maybe he should pull out his gun. Of course, a Magnum revolver would have little effect on the Autobot's thick armour plating so the Colonel quickly dismissed this thought.

"You humans…some of you are simply so irritating," the Autobot said, staring down at Weller. Professor Vine and Galloway had turned around and started running. Weller remained where he was, staring the big Autobot down.

"You're not going to kill me," Weller said bluntly, controlling the slight pang of fear he could feel inside him, "you're an Autobot. You don't kill humans."

The Autobot seemed to consider the notion for a moment, as if the statement had struck a chord somewhere. The Autobot seemed to reach a decision after a few seconds however and shifted his gaze back down at the Colonel.

"I'll control my overwhelming urge to kill you," the Autobot said, "but I won't be afraid to take out any of your kind that try to stop me."

"What? Are you seriously considering escape?" Weller laughed, shaking his head at the Autobot's sheer stupidity. "You don't stand a chance…"

Regardless, the Autobot went on to step right past him, knocking over a few of the metal containers nearby. Immediately a group of armed soldiers arrived and opened fire with their rifles on the Autobot but the rounds simply glanced off of the robot's armour. The Autobot, looking annoyed, simply kept on walking towards the tunnel that ran out to the lakebed on the surface.

Weller turned around, noticing that Captain Xander Farnell was walking over while clutching his nose. Closer inspection revealed that it had been broken somehow and that blood was oozing out but even so Weller cared little about the Captain's physical wellbeing. What he did care about was the Autobot that was escaping to the surface right now.

"Captain!" Weller barked, anger flowing through him, "get your men and chase that fucking robot down!"

"Sir…my nose…it's broken…"

"I don't give a rat's ass about your nose!" Weller paused for breath, realizing that yet again his plans had been thrown into disarray, "get your men…get tanks…get helicopters…get everything! GET THE WHOLE DAMN MILITARY! I want that Autobot recaptured, preferably in one piece! Is that understood?"

The Captain seemed nervous at the Colonel's yelling and simply nodded, trying his best to stow his bleeding nose.

Weller suddenly felt like shooting somebody but he realized that wouldn't really help anyone, especially himself and the person he shot. The Captain was standing where he was despite the fact that workers and soldiers were scrambling all throughout the facility.

"What are you waiting for, Captain?" Weller barked, "go and organize the recapture of that robot!"

"Sir, you don't understand…" The Captain's voice sounded a bit odd which was understandable since his nose was more or less smashed flat against his face, "there's some guy…he loosened the cable and he's making off with some sort of alien artefact…"

"WHAT?!" Weller felt a rise in his blood pressure upon hearing this. There was an intruder, here, right now? No wonder things were falling apart. Weller took a deep breath, doing his best to control his ever increasing rage.

"What alien artefact?" Weller asked, realizing then that maybe the Autobot had been carrying an alien device after all. It made sense that this intruder had taken off with it since it denied Weller and his organization a potential chance of reverse-engineering the technology.

"I don't know…" The Captain replied, "It just looked alien…it was some sort of cylinder…"

"Then get it back! Get the damn thing back! Get that robot back as well while you're at it! Is that all clear to you, Captain?" Weller reached into one pocket and removed a small plastic container which held several pills that helped to maintain his blood pressure at a reasonable rate. He popped the cap on it and downed a couple, swallowing them both whole. The last thing he needed right now was a heart attack.

The Captain nodded, turning around and heading off to organize some sort of effort to recapture the escaped Autobot and this intruder. Weller took a moment to catch his breath and calm himself down, although it wasn't working too well.

Not only had they lost an Autobot but they had also lost a potentially powerful alien device. Weller had the right to be angry and he was using this right to its full extent. In frustration he pulled out his Magnum revolver and fired a few shots into the ceiling, shooting out a light. It helped…slightly.

When they got that robot back he would make sure it wouldn't escape again. He would also make sure to show it that he was in charge and not the other way around.


	14. Desert Runner

**Desert Runner  
**Somewhere in the New Mexico desert  
December 14th, 2010

Deadeye did his best to ignore the humans that were firing their weapons at him, the sting of their bullets doing little to his armoured frame. He charged on through the underground hangar-like expanse, racing for the tunnel that he presumed lead back up to the surface.

Centurion had been right about the time displacement field that his device had caused since both of them had been flung far into the future. The humans had advanced somewhat since Deadeye's arrival on their world but they were still nowhere near the level of Cybertron. However, it seemed that he had suffered a near fatal overload thanks to the energy Centurion's device had emitted once the displacement field had shutdown. He had been out of it for a while, it seemed.

The last thing he remembered was being underwater in the river that ran through the human city of Arnhem. He had grabbed Centurion's device only seconds before he had shutdown and yet he had lost it, waking up only to find the device was no longer in his grasp. The human that had interrogated him, Weller, didn't seem to know where it was so it was safe to assume that he hadn't taken it. Wherever it was, it was gone now and so Deadeye was left with the choice of escaping or letting himself be interrogated by these humans.

He had felt like killing Weller and his friends but Deadeye knew that such committing such actions simply meant that he was becoming more like the enemy he had once fought. He was an Autobot and killing the humans was not their way…even if he had done so in the past. What he had to do was escape and try and work out the fate of Centurion and any others of his kind who may have come to this world.

This planet, Earth, had managed to circle its sun over sixty times since he and Centurion had been drawn into the displacement field. Human years meant little to his kind but it still meant that he had been thrown into the future, having probably been found by some curious humans as he sunk into the Arnhem River. Now he had been brought here, presumably to be interrogated by the human who called himself "Colonel Weller".

Deadeye hadn't been planning on staying and had been somewhat relieved to find that ne of the cables that had secured him had fallen loose. He had seized his chance and was now in the process of making his escape, making an educated guess that the tunnel ahead lead to the surface. He needed to find out where he was exactly and whether there were any others of his kind here.

If he had been brought to this point in the future then it was obvious that Centurion had as well. Deadeye's sensors weren't detecting the Decepticon and the giveaway energy traces he left behind so it was safe to assume that these humans were yet to find the Decepticon or that Centurion had already woken up and escaped. The latter possibility didn't seem too likely so Deadeye assumed that he had been the only one of his kind to have been found by the humans.

Deadeye had been in a state of deep hibernation as his spark tried to repair him. It would have taken a few thousand years for it to complete its work but since he had been revived within seconds he assumed that the humans had somehow accelerated the process. He wasn't sure how they had done it but it had happened and now he was free to try his hand at escaping. He assumed the humans would want to keep him for experiments, something he wasn't about to let happen. Instead, he was making a run for the tunnel whilst trying his best to ignore the bullets that pinged against his armour and stung only slightly.

He came to the entrance of the tunnel and was unsurprisingly much taller than it. Within seconds he had changed into his vehicle mode of an armoured scout car, speeding into the tunnel while swerving out of the way of the human workers that were milling about the length of it. He sped along, leaving the pursuing armed humans behind him as he started towards the open doors ahead.

Already he had managed to tap into some sort of vast human-made global network, the amount of information within it distracting him momentarily. The humans had obviously advanced considerably in the last sixty or so of their years, having taken the time to set up this global network of communications and information exchanging that, if Deadeye was correct, had been labelled the "Internet". As he sped along the tunnel he was already downloading stacks of information that may help him, finding that the war he had stumbled upon in Arnhem had long since finished. The humans had entered some sort of technology driven era, one where their technology was advancing at a faster rate than ever before.

Deadeye realized this particular vehicle mode of his would only make him easier to find since such a vehicle was no longer in use by the humans. He figured he would need to change into something else the first chance he got but first he needed to get clear of this underground facility. His sensors were already picking up the faint readings of a spark some distance away and he immediately realized that maybe he wasn't alone on this planet anymore, as he had been when he had first arrived here.

The doors up ahead were gradually closing, the gap in between them narrowing more and more. Deadeye put all his effort into beating the thick metal bulkhead doors, managing to quite literally scrape through before speeding out into a desert region, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. He quickly discerned that he was out on some sort of desert region and a quick scan of the Internet revealed that it wasn't marked on any recent maps, hinting that the humans had been careful enough to keep the place secret.

Whilst driving along Deadeye lurched out of his vehicle mode, his momentum carrying him along a little before he landed with a dull _thump_ onto the ground. He looked around, noticing the set of old human structures further behind him and the fact that he seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere. The desert plains rolled on in all directions, dotted with mesas and tall buttes. Small clusters of desert shrubs dotted the landscape but even these hints of life couldn't remove the desolate feel of the landscape. Deadeye was quite alone save for the faint life-spark reading he could detect some distance away, further into the desert wastes. He decided he would check it out, just as soon as he lost his human pursuers.

He heard the distant _chop-chop_ of helicopter blades, looking these vehicles up on the Internet within seconds of seeing them appear on the horizon in order to learn more about them. These two helicopters were black and on the side of each sat a human at some sort of grappling cannon. Deadeye could tell that the cables that such a device fired would be meant for him so he started running across the dry lakebed, picking up the arrival of several human ground vehicles amongst the structures further behind him. It seemed that these humans wanted him rather badly and would go to any lengths to get him.

Deadeye didn't want to kill any of them but he knew that things would be made trickier as a result of this decision. Already the pair of helicopters were closing in on him as he bolted off of the dry lakebed and down a short sandy slope, almost falling over as the sand gave way under his feet.

At the same time he was accessing the human Internet, or "World Wide Web" as it was otherwise known and managed to find a detailed map of the region. He could see that the desert continued on for some time and that the nearest hint of human civilization was a long way away. He knew that his vehicle mode would simply make him an easier target so he decided to keep running, ignoring the open-top Jeeps that started pursuing him across the desert plains.

It was obvious that these humans weren't about to let him go easily. He paused and turned around, counting the three Jeeps that were speeding along after him. Each contained a few humans and each vehicle had a mounted grappling cable gun on its rear, implying that these vehicles had been specifically built for the purpose of capturing his kind. It occurred to him that these humans were oddly prepared, as if they had been expecting him to escape.

The life-spark reading was slightly stronger, implying that he was closing in on it. Of course, he knew he couldn't really check it out whilst being chased by the humans so he realized he would have to get rid of his pursuers somehow.

One of the helicopters came to hover nearby, the human in the black-grey uniform who was manning the grappling gun swivelling the weapon on its stand in order to take careful aim. Deadeye stopped and turned around, the choices of what to do flowing through his mind. How could he possibly escape from all of these humans? They wanted him badly, he could see that.

The grappling gun fired and the cable with its jagged end shot out at a surprising speed, hitting Deadeye in the left forearm. The ends seemed to dig right into him in a rather painful fashion and he went for where it had attached itself to him with his free hand, grabbing it and trying to pull it away. However, he realized that such an effort would only leave him open for the other approaching helicopter to pull the same sort of stunt.

_Primus, forgive me for this,_ he thought to himself. With the cable attached to his arm he recklessly swung the helicopter with some effort, sending it flying into the side of the nearest mesa. It exploded into a large fireball, pieces of the helicopter raining down upon the desert below. The cable slackened since it was no longer connected to anything allowing Deadeye to turn around and resume running away.

He realized that he had just killed about four humans but he knew that he had no other choice. He certainly wasn't about to let them recapture him just so he could be interrogated and experimented upon. Hopefully he wouldn't have to resort to killing too many of these humans but if they kept chasing him like this he may have to resort to such lengths in order to escape from them.

The other helicopter stayed in pursuit of him as the Autobot raced out onto an open desert plain, mesas and buttes dotted across it. The few human Jeeps that were behind him kept following him, inclining Deadeye to slam one fist into the ground as they approached. The ensuing shockwave that was sent forth by the ground-pound sent all three Jeeps flying backwards, the humans inside being tossed free of their vehicles. A quick scan indicated that only one of them had died whilst the others had been injured in a variety of ways, with broken bones the most prominent. The Jeeps came crashing down a few seconds later, out-rightly trashed by the unforeseen actions of the Autobot.

The helicopter that was pursuing him seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if its pilot was contemplating whether taking on Deadeye was such a good idea. Deadeye detected the radio frequency these humans were using to communicate and so listened in appropriately.

"_We need backup! He's taken out nearly all of our mobile units!"_ The helicopter pilot sounded frantic, as if he didn't like the idea of taking on the Autobot by himself. The reply that came back to him was the voice of Colonel Weller and he sounded stern and unfazed.

"_Backup is on its way, Eagle Two,"_ Weller replied, _"in the meantime you are to keep in pursuit of the NBE, is that understood?"_

Deadeye had heard enough. Without thinking thoroughly about it he brought out his arm cannon, taking careful aim at the helicopter's tail. It only took a single shot to send black smoke pouring out of the helicopter's engine, the pilot turning the craft around as the fuel leak continued and threatened to make them crash.

Deadeye remained standing where he was, compacting his arm cannon back into his forearm while thinking over all that he had managed to do. He had killed a few humans but he had let the majority of them live, a move he was somewhat proud of. Sure, he couldn't bring back the ones he had killed but at least he was doing his best to not kill anymore.

On his sensors Deadeye detected numerous human vehicles heading on their way towards him and so he turned around and began running across the desert, heading for where the life-spark reading was coming from.

Behind him he could make out the distant _chop-chop_ of helicopter blades but from what he could hear over the human radio frequencies they had effectively lost him. Deadeye could hear the Colonel's angry voice shouting over the radio about inciting a full scale search of the entire region in an effort to find him. Deadeye realized that he wouldn't have much time before they did detect him so he decided he would try and make his visit to this faint life-spark reading a quick one.

Nestled in the shadows between two tall mesas he found the source of the reading, half-buried in the desert sands and looking worse for wear. He was surprised to see the fellow Autobot buried with his head jutting out of the sand, as if whoever had buried him hadn't cared enough to do a proper job.

Deadeye approached the half-buried Autobot, carefully digging the sand away from his head. He stopped when he heard a helicopter fly past but when he saw that he hadn't been seen he continued digging, revealing the upper torso of a familiar looking figure. It was Jazz, one of the smaller of the Autobots that he had once fought alongside with on Cybertron.

_Jazz, what have they done to you?_

Deadeye scraped the sand off of his fellow Autobot's face, revealing that some sections had been removed leaving only the inner and mostly bare skeleton. In fact, whole chunks of Jazz's exterior armoured exoskeleton had been removed, most definitely by the humans to further their experiments. He wouldn't be surprised if Jazz had been stripped to his bare bones, the humans having taken all of the useful parts of him. No wonder they had dumped him out here in the desert and left him half-buried in the sand.

Seeing another of his kind like this struck a chord in the young Autobot. Not only was he angry but he realized just how monstrous the humans could be. For a moment he figured the ones he had killed so far deserved it before he realized that not all humans were the monsters that seemed to enjoy killing his kind, if only to further their technological advancements. He doubted he would be feeling the same over a stripped-bare Decepticon but seeing a fellow Autobot in this state merely angered him.

He heard a human helicopter fly past again, catching a glimpse of it through the gap in between the two mesas. He realized that staying in the one place would only increase his chance of being recaptured, the Autobot having no doubt in his mind that the humans were in the process of locking down the area. They were quite organized types these humans and they would pursue him with ruthless efficiency. He decided he would be best to get moving again, even if the stripped-down Jazz was still partially alive.

Deadeye almost jumped back in surprise when one of Jazz's arms shot out of the sand and grabbed his own. Jazz's eyes were lit up and the Autobot went to speak but instead of words there was a metal grinding, as if his vocal circuits were one of the parts the humans had removed. They probably had been, leaving Jazz with no way to communicate.

"Jazz, it's me," Deadeye said, composing himself and plucking his fellow Autobot's arm off of his own, "it's me, Deadeye. What the hell did those humans do to you?"

Jazz looked up at Deadeye, the look in his glowing blue eyes telling the extent of his circumstances. There was no way Jazz would survive much longer; even now Deadeye's sensors detected a gradual diminishing of the Autobot's life-spark.

"Don't worry Jazz, I'll get help," Deadeye said, "Are there other Autobots here on Earth? If so, just nod…I'll go and find them and tell them where you are…"

Jazz nodded in the affirmative manner. Deadeye felt some relief when Jazz nodded, realizing that he might not have been so alone on this alien world after all. If there were other Autobots then Deadeye could find them, it would just take some time. Until then he had to evade these annoying humans who seemed to be determined to recapture him. Of course, the young Autobot had different ideas.

"I'll get help, Jazz," Deadeye promised, although even he knew his chances were diminishing the longer he stayed here. The humans were locking down the whole region; there was no doubt about that. He needed to find a practical new disguise and get out of here, although he wasn't quite sure how he would do that since he was stuck in the middle of nowhere.

"Just stay put…" Deadeye trailed off, realizing just how stupid this sounded. Of course Jazz was going to stay put…he was practically dead and stripped to the bone. Jazz managed one last look up at Deadeye before the glow in his eyes diminished and he relaxed, the faint reading that Deadeye was receiving from his life-spark fading out completely.

"Jazz? Jazz, wake up!" Deadeye grabbed the half-buried Autobot had the shoulders, shaking him about. It was to no avail, however, since Jazz was well and truly dead or very close to it. There was just one faint reading…but nothing else. What life was left in him was just about gone. Deadeye would be back for him, he was determined to return to help Jazz.

Deadeye let go of Jazz and took a step back. He vowed that he would kill the human named Colonel Weller, the one that was the obvious cause of all of this. Weller had probably been planning on doing the same thing he had done to Jazz to Deadeye once he had ceased of being any use. If Deadeye hadn't had that stroke of good luck and made his escape then he would probably have ended up practically dead and dumped in the desert, as Jazz had been.

His concentration was broken as he heard the sound of the helicopter overhead as it flew past again on another sweep of the area. This time the pilot, an annoyed sounding male human, spoke through a loudspeaker on the helicopter itself.

"_Come out, Autobot!"_ The pilot declared, probably annoyed that he had to waste his time like this on some chase through the desert, _"We have the whole area locked down! There's no chance you'll escape…so why don't you just surrender and maybe we'll treat you a little better this time…"_

_Not a chance,_ Deadeye thought in response to this. He left behind Jazz's half-buried corpse and stepped out from the cover amongst the two mesas. The helicopter was up ahead, flying from behind one of the mesas. Deadeye didn't give the humans inside a chance to put out an alert, simply blasting them out of the sky with a few well placed shots from his right arm cannon. The flaming wreck of the helicopter plummeted to the ground, kicking up a thick cloud of sand before its engine fully ignited again. The fireball shot up high and the dark smoke plumed from out of the flaming wreck, making an obvious marker for the other humans to follow.

Not that Deadeye cared much about this anyway. He started running across the desert, accessing the map he had downloaded off of the human "Internet" to work out where he was. It was a long way to the nearest settlement that was still inhabited by normal civilian humans but he was determined that he would get there, even if it meant that he would have to kill a few humans in the process.

These humans had killed Jazz…and for that he wouldn't show remorse. He would be able to tell which ones deserved to be killed since they would be the ones chasing him, determined to apprehend him and experiment upon him and interrogate him. He wasn't about to let himself be put through that.

The desert landscape ahead was vast and went on for miles in all directions, dotted with mesas and tall narrow buttes. It would be hard to avoid the humans in a place like this but he would try his best to limit the body count…but he wasn't afraid to kill any that got in his way.

So Deadeye kept running, pounding across the desert sands and kicking up a cloud of sand behind him. Further behind him several human manned Jeeps and helicopters continued to search the area, heading for the smoking helicopter wreck in the effort to find him. It wouldn't be long before Deadeye had put his pursuers behind him but it would take time to reach the nearest inhabited town. Until then, all Deadeye could do was keep running.

* * *

James Turner had since made his way down the tunnel, the alien artefact in tow as chaos erupted in the hangar that he left behind him. He was outside only moments before the armoured scout car, looking like a prop out of a World War Two movie, came speeding out after him. He watched as it sped off down the lakebed, perplexed as to where it had come from and just what it was doing here.

Regardless, he headed back up the side of the lakebed, retracing his steps as he became aware of the arrival of several Jeeps which in turn went speeding after the fleeing armoured car. He was thankful for the distraction since it allowed him to escape without much trouble, keeping the black ops soldiers off of him as he made his way back through the ghost town known as Morgue.

James stopped to catch his breath, the consequences of what he had just achieved only just resounding throughout his mind. Not only had he managed to infiltrate a secret black ops facility that was under a ghost town but he had managed to help an alien robot escape and steal an alien artefact. He was clutching the cylindrical and ridged device under his right arm, holding it in front of him to get a better look. Alien symbols were etched into its sides while transparent sections glowed a blue-white, as if powered by some sort of inner source. The alien device was warm to the touch and it occurred to him that it was probably radioactive but he didn't care…the fact that he had just managed to escape a government facility with it was incredible enough. He managed to laugh out loud despite the fact that no one was listening, realizing just how much of a badass he must be if he had just managed to get away with all that he had just done.

No doubt his late father would be proud. He had been the one to incite James to pursue the truth in the first place ever since their encounter with one of the aliens back in the 1970s. Ever since then James had devoted himself to searching for the truth about the aliens and the government cover-ups, having gathered much information but little in the way of proof. Now he had his proof and he was overjoyed, even if he wasn't quite in the clear yet.

He stepped back into the alley behind him when he heard the Jeep approaching, watching as it drove on past. There were three black ops soldiers in it, one of which was manning the grappling gun mounted on the rear of the vehicle. They were probably off to pursue the escaping alien robot, an escape that James had willingly aided in. If it wasn't for him that robot would probably be getting tortured right about now and subjected to harsh experiments.

James checked the street to see if it was all clear. Satisfied that it was he ran across, heading through an alley ahead before emerging behind the buildings that lined the street. He started back up the ridge, sweat forming on his forehead in the harsh desert sun. He was already feeling tired, something that hinted at his age and the toll it was beginning to take on him.

_I'm getting too old for this crap,_ he thought to himself as he jogged along. He managed to make it up the ridge, finding his battered 1972 Chevrolet Camaro where he had left it. He pulled open the driver's side door and threw the alien artefact onto the passenger seat before climbing inside the car himself. He sat himself down on the driver's seat, taking the chance to rest and catch his breath.

When he had set off from Tranquility in order to head out here he hadn't thought that he would end up infiltrating a government facility, aiding an alien robot to escape and making off with a potentially valuable alien artefact. In fact, he had been quite certain that the source who had given him this information, some guy who called himself "RoboWarrior" had simply been pulling some sort of joke on him. Obviously this hadn't been the case, further hinting at RoboWarrior's reliability to do with this kind of thing.

James reached into a pocket in his jacket, pulling out his mobile phone. Casually, he dialled the RoboWarrior's number and put the phone to his ear. On the other end of the line he heard the phone ring a few times before it was picked up, RoboWarrior's familiar snarky sounding voice sounding across the line.

"_Yeah, who is it?"_ He sounded annoyed, as if he was being interrupted. James didn't care whether or not he was interrupting anything, preferring instead to get on with telling his number one source of information what had happened.

"You were right about the ghost town," James said, "it wasn't such a ghost town after all."

"_James?" _There was a pause, as if RoboWarrior through what James meant by his previous statement. _"Yeah, well, I don't lie about this sort of thing…"_

"You wouldn't believe what I saw," James continued, picking up the alien artefact and holding it up to the light. It was still warm to the touch, emitting some sort of inner heat. "These aliens, they exist just like you said…and that Colonel Weller guy tried to interrogate one."

"_Really?"_ The voice on the other end seemed to change tone, this particular statement catching his attention. _"What happened?"_

"Well, I sort of helped it to escape…" James smiled, although he knew that RoboWarrior couldn't see him. "And then I found some sort of alien artefact…I don't know what it is exactly, but it's damned peculiar. I'm holding it right now."

_"You helped it escape?"_ RoboWarrior sounded surprised, some worry creeping into his voice. _"We should seriously meet, James. And you should bring this 'artefact' with you as well. We have a lot to talk about…about Weller, the aliens…everything."_

James thought about this for a moment. He still had some things to do back in Tranquility but he was all for meeting RoboWarrior face-to-face and finding out just how the man got all his information. He had been right about things so far…so he must know a heck of a lot about these aliens and the government agencies trying to cover them up.

"I have some things to do first," James said, "I'll call you back when I'm ready to meet."

_"When will you call back?"_

"In a few days," James replied, "don't worry, I won't forget about you."

RoboWarrior went on to say something but James ended the call then and there. Putting away his mobile phone he sat back in his chair, taking the time to survey the alien artefact. He noticed some sort of switch on one part of the device and flicked it. As soon as he had two sharp prongs shot out of either end of the device, increasing its total length to about a metre. Luckily James had had the side windows open, otherwise they would have been smashed by the spear-like ends the device now sported which covered the width of the car.

With a surprised expression he flicked the switch again, retracting the ends so that only the compact form of the device remained. He carefully placed it back onto the passenger seat, shaking his head. The damn thing was dangerous, that much was certain.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I confess: I originally intended to have Jazz die outright. I had a change of heart tough, and so decided to have him left barely alive and half-buried in the desert. That way there's still hope for him yet.


	15. Nemesis

**Nemesis  
**Titan, a moon of Saturn  
December 14th, 2010

The ringed gas giant of Saturn, the fifth planet in our solar system, had many orbiting moons that had since been dragged into the gas giant's orbit over millions of years. Most of these moons were lifeless spheres of rock, some with volcanic activity and gas vents dotting their surfaces. There was one moon in particular called Titan: a crater marked sphere of rock that was millions of years old and was kept in a stable orbit around the gas giant. It was especially bland and lifeless, home to hundreds of craters but little else.

Usually there would be no activity upon such a lifeless sphere but for the last two years, parked upon one section was an absolute monstrosity of an alien ship. Jagged metal pylons jutted out from its sides while metallic feelers dug into the rock to secure its hold on the moon. Blue lights upon the ship's surface hinted at the life that was within, although it certainly wasn't any life we were used to.

The ship was vast and covered at least a third of the moon, perhaps more. It was mostly black and had began as a small ship, only for its owners to continuously add extensions to it over the hundreds of years they had had it in their possession, extensions that had given it the disjointed but imposing look it had now. The ship was in fact Cybertronian in design, having been the flagship for a certain Decepticon: the Fallen. Ever since his escape from his outer-dimensional prison he had gotten himself his own ship and had appropriately flew it to the solar system where the last known energon harvester had been located.

This had all happened last year. The plan had been simple enough and the Decepticons had been fairly confident that it would work. The energon harvester, located upon Earth, would destroy the system's sun and allow them to harvest the released energon and use it to raise the army that was being kept aboard the ship. Hundreds of fluorescent blue egg-like sacs lined the vast interiors of the Cybertronian ship, each containing a Decepticon "protoform", or "infant". Awakening them now would most likely result in their quick deaths for they lacked the energy to survive out in the real world, thus they were left on the life support systems within their sacs until enough energon could be gathered to ensure their survival.

The ship was known to its owners as the _Nemesis_. It was a fitting name, capable of destruction on a fairly grand scale. Usually it would make the perfect ship to provide an orbital bombardment but currently all its power had been diverted to keeping the unborn Decepticons within alive. Gradually a few of the protoform containing sacs had had their life support systems switched off in order to conserve the ship's ever dwindling power supplies and give all the other protoforms a chance. It was obvious that this couldn't be kept up for much longer, hence the need for energon.

Unfortunately, the plan to harvest this system's sun of its energon had failed miserably. Not only had the humans and their Autobot allies somehow managed to hold off against superior numbers of Decepticons but they had managed to resurrect Optimus Prime…someone Megatron himself had seen to take care of personally. As a result of this, the Fallen had been killed and Megatron had come close to meeting the same fate. Naturally, Starscream had recommended that they retreat and so they had, leaving Earth and returning here to the _Nemesis._

Megatron had since taken the place of the Fallen, keeping the ship running and attempting to keep the many unborn Decepticons on bard alive. He had managed to raise a small army with only minimal amounts of energon but the amounts they had weren't nearly enough to raise the entire complement of protoforms they had on the ship. That's why the energon harvester on Earth had been a necessity in their cause but heading back there in an attempt to activate it would probably result in a death at the hands of several Autobots and their annoying human allies.

Someone like Megatron knew his limits. He also knew when to wait and when to strike, hence the reason he had spent the last one and a half Earth years upon the _Nemesis_, carefully planning their next move in regards to Earth and the Autobots and humans upon the blue-green planet. It was unsurprising that even Megatron himself was strapped for ideas, seeing as the energon harvester had been their last chance at raising an army.

The All-spark had been destroyed thanks to that human boy, Sam Witwicky. Not only that but Megatron had been "killed" by him as well, only to be resurrected later. It seemed that this particular human boy had managed to ruin his plans on two occasions, first with the All-spark and next with the energon harvester. Megatron had considered simply heading down to Earth himself and enacting his revenge on the irritating human but he knew that Sam would be well-guarded by his Autobot friends and that to act against him would bring the whole complement of Autobots on Earth against him.

Hence why Megatron had done little since his return here, other than raise some of the unborn Decepticons. The tall and imposing Decepticon spent most of his time in the control centre of the _Nemesis_, surveying reports from the few Decepticon scouts he had sent to Earth to keep an eye on things. He had been thinking that something was bound to turn up, anything that could help in removing the Autobots once and for all.

Unsurprisingly, very little had occurred ever since his departure from Earth. The Autobots were still working with their human allies, so that hadn't changed. Megatron had been hoping for the alliance to fall apart but it seemed to have been as strong as ever, strengthened by the battles they had been through.

Megatron sat upon the chair that had once belonged to the Fallen, surveying the holographic screens that lined the walls of the control centre. Rows of information in the language of the Decepticons went flowing by on some of the screens while images of Earth flickered on a few, followed by the results of their most recent scan of the solar system. Their technology was no match for the human's and thus they had since managed to infiltrate the human's global communications network, able to listen in on any conversation that took place over any piece of their technology.

He had a definite grudge against the humans, this much was obvious. Not only had they been stupid enough to keep him in cryogenic suspension and research him to accelerate their technological advancements but they had since been the cause of two major failures: first they had stopped him from getting the All-spark and then they had managed to stop him from using the energon harvester. He despised the little insects for they were seemingly inferior and yet had managed to cause him so much trouble. It was annoying, to say the least.

Only a short time ago they had detected the arrival of another Autobot, someone named 'Breakaway'. This new arrival meant little to Megatron since one new Autobot wouldn't change anything and besides, Megatron didn't think highly of this Autobot traitor. Breakaway had since defected back to his original side it seemed; otherwise he would have come here instead.

No, the arrival of another Autobot didn't change the state of the war in any way whatsoever. Sure, it may provide some slight inconvenience whenever they had their next battle with the Autobots but Megatron knew that he could take care of this Autobot without any trouble. No, what had him slightly concerned were the readings one of his scouts on Earth were detecting.

On one particular part of Earth, in the region the humans had called "Europe"; one of Megatron's scouts had recently detected numerous residual traces of a peculiar energy, a type that hinted at only one possibility. Megatron knew that if the readings were correct then things would get a bit more complicated, although he was confident that any problems they encountered because of the development could be taken care of with ease. After all, if Megatron's greatest rival had returned and was on Earth he was sure that their superior numbers could beat him.

Megatron knew Centurion from the war, the pair having once fought side-by-side. However, it hadn't been long before Centurion had left to pursue his own goals, disappearing for a long enough time that had made Megatron believe that he had been killed.

Of course, Centurion suddenly returned and seemed to have gathered a whole lot of loyal followers, some of them even defected Autobots. He tried to remove Megatron but had failed, going into hiding. Megatron had hoped to have removed his rival back then but it seemed that Centurion had since become quite powerful, having experimented with some sort of unknown energy source that was capable of immense destruction. As much as Megatron would have liked to be able to use such energy it seemed that his attempts at harnessing it were miserable failures, leaving Centurion as the only one who knew of how to harness it.

And then, just as suddenly as before, Centurion had disappeared. Megatron had heard that the Autobots had attempted to remove his rival and they must have succeeded in some way since Centurion was never heard from again…up until now.

Megatron watched the readouts on the screens ahead of him, clenching one hand into a fist when he realized what it meant. The confidence he had once had was gradually receding, giving way to urgency and concern. If the readings the scouts had taken were correct then there was something on Earth that was leaving numerous amounts of this energy behind and that could only mean one thing: Centurion was on Earth. How he had gotten there was unknown, even to Megatron who would have preferred to know everything about his enemies but obviously didn't.

Such a discovery required immediate action but it seemed that this was going to be a bit hard to carry out. They hadn't the numbers for a full scale search of Earth and he knew that any move they made on that planet would simply get the attention of the Autobots and their human allies. It would be a tricky situation, one that would require some careful planning and an even more careful execution.

Megatron knew to take all the information he received from Earth with some doubt and this time was no different. How could Centurion have gotten to Earth without them detecting him? They had detected Breakaway's arrival so why not Centurion's? And why would Centurion be on Earth anyway, it wasn't as if there was anything there that interested him…unless…

_Unless there was something on Earth that he wanted,_ Megatron realized suddenly, _and if he wants it, I probably want it as well._

Centurion wouldn't bother with Earth unless he had good reason to. The fact that maybe there was something on the planet that he was looking for intrigued Megatron and gave him even more reason to go down to the planet himself to find out. Of course, they couldn't be sure if Centurion was even there and that it just wasn't some sort of anomaly or incorrect readings.

Megatron sat looking at the screens that were displaying the readings, thinking through what he could possibly do about it. Going to Earth would be risky since he would undoubtedly get the attention of the Autobots and their human allies but not checking out such a discovery may be detrimental to them all. If Centurion found out that Megatron and the rest of the Decepticons were here, on board the _Nemesis_ then he would probably come over and try to gather some followers. No doubt he would probably try and kill Megatron, a thought that annoyed the Decepticon leader somewhat.

It was a hard decision to make, whether or not to head down to Earth or simply leave these suspicious energy readings alone. Megatron decided on the former, knowing that it would be risky but he was feeling confident enough to go on a trip to the surface. He was about to get up and head out into the halls of the ship when the control centre's door slid open, a familiar figure adorned in ancient Cybertronian insignias and symbols stepping in.

It was Starscream and he was, as usual, looking annoyed. Megatron glanced over at his subordinate but barely gave him a moment's thought, instead shifting his concentration back to the readouts on the screen in front of him. Starscream approached him and managed a quick bow. Megatron ignored him, still thinking over what course of action would be best to take to do with these suspicious readings. Going to Earth had been decided on; he just had to figure out how to go about it. It was quite convenient that his subordinate had arrived since he could get him to prepare the troops.

"My Lord," Starscream began, sounding somewhat concerned, "I attempted to raise another batch of protoforms, as you ordered…"

"And?" Megatron leaned towards him, leering over his subordinate. Starscream was perhaps one of the least trustworthy soldiers he had under his command but definitely the best. Megatron only knew that he had to watch his back when Starscream was around since the subordinate had the ambition to be a leader…and he had the cunning to achieve it.

"They died," Starscream replied, "all twenty of them. There simply isn't enough energon for them to survive…"

Megatron held up one hand, signalling his subordinate to be quiet. Starscream fell silent, noticing that there was something else on his leader's mind, something far more pressing an issue. He glanced at the readouts on the screens ahead but could determine nothing from the information they gave, hinting that there was something going on here that he didn't know about.

"The dead protoforms are of no matter," Megatron said bluntly, his gaze returning to the readout screens ahead, "We have plenty of soldiers for now. I have a feeling that we won't be needing many of them for a while…"

"What is it, my Lord?" Starscream asked, sensing his leader's uncertainty, "has something happened on the human home-world?"

Megatron remembered the rivalry that existed between Starscream and the Autobot Breakaway, the two of them having encountered each other many times during the war before Breakaway's apparent defection to the Decepticons. He managed the equivalent of a smile on his silver-grey metallic features, turning to look at Starscream.

"There have been a few developments," Megatron said, "including the arrival of another Autobot who has obviously gone to join the others. I think you know him…"  
Starscream's curiosity increased and he stepped forward, awaiting the answer.

"Who?"

"Breakaway," Megatron said bluntly. Immediately he saw the dislike cross Starscream's face, the Decepticon clenching one hand into a fist.

"Are you certain, Lord Megatron?" Starscream asked, the hatred of Breakaway discernible in his more aggressive tone of voice, "I encountered him when I returned to Cybertron after your apparent death…He managed to escape but I never thought that he would come to Earth."

Megatron wasn't interested to hear the details since the whole Breakaway/Starscream rivalry wasn't his problem. He cared little for the recently arrived Autobot, finding his apparent habit of switching sides somewhat curious. First Breakaway had been with the Autobots…and then Centurion's Decepticons before switching back to the Autobots again.

"I thought you should know," Megatron said simply, letting Starscream think about this recent development a bit. "Besides, that's not what I am concerned about. What I am concerned about are the residual energy readings one of our scouts has detected in a human inhabited region…"

Starscream looked at the screens ahead, taking a moment to discern what the readings meant. He looked at them and then Megatron, still uncertain.

Megatron shook his head at his subordinate's seeming stupidity, figuring that he would have to explain the situation.

"The energy detected is exactly that of the type that Centurion had been experimenting with before his disappearance," Megatron explained.

Starscream gave the equivalent of a frown on his metallic features, some uncertainty showing in his red eyes. He tilted his head slightly, as if thinking about what this could mean.

"Centurion?" Starscream said, sounding a little doubtful, "as in, the Centurion whose army was defeated by our own during the war?"

Megatron nodded, remembering the battles that had been fought against Centurion's loyalist forces all too well. It had been part of an attempted coup by the rival Decepticon to remove Megatron from power…and it had failed miserably with Centurion managing to escape, only to disappear for what was the second time. The first time had been in the early stages of the war and he had been gone for quite a long time, even long enough for many to think that he was dead.

"Yes," Megatron replied, "hence, it is logical to assume that he somehow made it to Earth without us finding out about it. I find this hard to believe but Centurion is the sneaky kind…He probably made sure we wouldn't be able to detect his arrival."

"That means he's on Earth," Starscream said, stating what Megatron had already thought of.

"It's very likely that he is," Megatron said, managing a glance back at the read-out screens. He paused, thinking for a moment. Why would Centurion be on the human home-world, of all places? What interest did he have there?

"But where has he been all of this time?" Starscream asked, his metallic features forming into a frown, "he simply disappeared from Cybertron for the second time…and he suddenly turns up here, years later? Doesn't that seem a bit strange, my Lord? Perhaps the scout who gave you this information is incorrect…"  
Megatron shook his head. He would have preferred if his scout had been wrong but he had made sure to double and triple-check the readings. Something was on Earth that was leaving behind all manner of energy traces, as if they were emanating off of someone. That someone was most likely Centurion.

"I wouldn't be talking about it if I thought my scout in the region was wrong," Megatron replied, "whatever is leaving this energy behind seems to be isolated to the one region on the human home-world. And, from my past experiences with Centurion, the same type of energy was left behind by him in those instances. It is as if it simply dribbles off of him, congealing on surfaces like lichen.

"It may not be energy in itself," Megatron continued, "rather; it may be some sort of organic power source, possibly some sort of chemical…one that only Centurion has managed to tap into. Whatever is leaving this energy behind on Earth deserves to be investigated and we can't afford to let Centurion slip by us if it is him."

Starscream considered his leader's words for a moment, nodding in agreement. They could speculate as much as they wanted about the nature of the strange destructive energy that Centurion had apparently tapped into but it was obvious to both Decepticons that there was something amiss on Earth that needed to be investigated.

"What do you suggest we do, my Lord?" Starscream asked, "if it is Centurion we will need a sizeable force in order to eliminate him…"

"I don't intend on eliminating him," Megatron replied bluntly, becoming amused at the surprised expression that cross Starscream's face. Megatron thought he would elaborate on what he was already planning in his mind.

"I would like to know what has brought Centurion to Earth," Megatron said, "and if that means working as his subordinates, so be it. There has to be a good reason why he has even bothered going to the human home-world…and I intend on determining that reason, even if it means having him in charge temporarily."

Starscream still looked surprised but Megatron had made his decision. Taking on Centurion was too risky and it would deny them the reason why he had gone to Earth in the first place. No, Megatron figured that their best option was to earn his trust first and finding out why he was on Earth. After that they could work on eliminating him and claiming whatever prize he was after on the human home-world for themselves.

All they needed to do now was find out if it actually was Centurion and not some sort of weird anomaly. This meant sending someone to investigate and Megatron figured that the best results would be met if he went himself. If Centurion was down there then he would want to confront him face-to-face rather than have some lackey like Starscream do it.

"How do you suggest we tackle the situation, my Lord?" Starscream asked, "it seems that confronting Centurion without having to fight him will be a bit…uh…tricky."

"I'll confront him myself," Megatron said, standing up from his chair. He turned to Starscream. "And you'll be accompanying me. That way he may listen to _my_ reasoning. You'll just be there to watch my back. Just remember, though: there is a chance that it might not even be him."

Starscream nodded, although it was obvious he didn't quite agree with Megatron's reasoning. Megatron didn't care: he was in charge and Starscream would have to do what he told him to do.

"I also want several of our troops to accompany us as well," Megatron said, "if the Autobots get involved they can face off against our regular soldiers. Tell Barricade that he's going to be in charge here while we're away."

Starscream nodded and turned around and left. Megatron stepped towards the main view-screen ahead of him, managing one last look at it before he turned around and started out of the control centre of the _Nemesis_. He could already tell that today would be an interesting day, with or without the involvement of Centurion.

* * *

Back on Earth, in the facility under the town of Morgue in New Mexico, Colonel Francis Weller stormed into his office whilst slamming the door shut behind him. He was fuming with absolute rage to say the least and he managed to down a few more of his blood pressure pills from the small plastic container he kept within his jacket. They didn't do much to help his mood though so he decided on getting some private time, sitting at his desk in order to mill over all that had happened.

Outside, he could hear shouting and the sound of weapons fire as the Autobot they had captured got away. Not only that but, according to Captain Farnell, their facility had been infiltrated by some African-American priest who had then made off with an alien artefact that had once been in the possession of the escaping Autobot. In all, Colonel Weller's plans had been thrown into a state of considerable jeopardy. One thing was for certain: it pissed him off. It pissed him off enough that he managed to throw his desk lamp onto the floor where it smashed loudly.

How could this have happened? How could some priest, of all people, been able infiltrate their facility? He knew the priest's name: James Turner, the pastor at the Tranquility Uniting Church over in Nevada. They had crossed paths back in Mission City and Shanghai during the clean up operations there. It seemed that James Turner had been on the search for the alien robots for a number of years now and he had obviously seized upon his chance here by taking the alien artefact.

Weller had read the reports from the men who had brought the once dead Autobot here. There had been something clutched in its right hand, some sort of cylindrical device. Now that potentially powerful piece of alien technology was in the possession of some priest whose sermons couldn't even attract a decent crowd. Someone had told the priest about what was going on here…how else could he have found out about the facility under the ghost town of Morgue? How else could he have conveniently ended up arriving at about the same time as the dead Autobot?

They had a security leak here and it was something that Weller was determined to rectify. Under no circumstances were there to be any security leaks within the operation that Weller was running here. He vowed that he would find out who was giving information to conspiracy nut priests and he would deal with that security leak personally. He didn't take this sort of thing lightly, especially when it had jeopardized an important part of their operation.

Weller had several of the photos of the alien ruins found in Venezuela laid out on the desk in front of him. He looked at them, taking note of the rows and rows of alien writings that lined the walls near the apparent (but sealed) entrance to some sort of vast alien facility. These writings had been found all over the world in the ruins left behind by ancient cultures, such as in Cambodia and Egypt. There was no doubt that the Cybertronian race had influenced human development in ancient times. Why, then, couldn't they translate these writings? They were beyond anything any linguists knew and were apparently undecipherable.

Weller felt a sudden burning sensation in his right waist pocket. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out the sliver of the All-spark that he had deposited inside there earlier after he had used it to resurrect the captured (but now escaping) Autobot. The sliver was incredibly hot to the touch and he shouted in surprise when he grabbed it, throwing it onto the desk. He rubbed his slightly burnt hand, noticing that the All-spark shard was glowing brightly.

What the hell was happening to it? It seemed that the last couple of days had been one thing after another, culminating in the complete ruination of the Colonel's plans by a meddling priest. Now it seemed that the All-spark shard was playing up, something that both intrigued him and worried him.

He reached out to the shard which lay on his desk, singing a mark in the wood below it. He touched it, only briefly but it seemed to have quite a drastic effect. As soon as his fingers touched its hot surface the All-spark shard crumbled into dust, first falling into chunks which in turn simply fell apart. The dark shiny dust that remained was still warm to touch but at a bearable temperature so, now quite curious, Weller picked up some of the dust and felt it between his fingers. It was rough, sort of like what glass would be like if it crumbled into dust. He held a clump of it close to his nose, able to smell a burning metallic sort of stench. In fact, this stench had enveloped the whole room.

Unexpectedly, the Colonel sneezed. The dust went flying from his hands and he reflexively breathed in, inhaling himself a considerable amount of the All-spark dust. It stung his nose and burned at his throat, so much so that he stood up and raced over to the small fridge he kept in the corner of his office, pulling it open and retrieving a bottle of water. The dust seemed to be searing into the sides of his throat as if it was burning right through his flesh so Weller, containing the urge to scream in agony, downed the whole 600mL bottle of chilled water. It relieved him straight away but left a tingly sensation down his throat, almost down into his lungs.

Colonel Weller dropped the empty bottle to the floor, rubbing his eyes as odd symbols scattered across his vision. He shook his head, aware of a faint humming but being unable to pinpoint its exact location. After a careful moment's thought he realized that it was coming from _him_ and he immediately raced over to the nearest reflective surface he could find, peering at himself in the reflection on the fridge.

At first, he could see nothing wrong. It was just the normal old Colonel Weller, grey hairs and blue eyes and all. However, he opened his mouth and almost shouted in surprise at what he saw: right at the back of his throat some sort of metallic looking film had gradually began to cover the flesh, small blue tendrils slowly snaking their way into his insides. He could see in his eyes that minutely small tendrils were working their way at a slow rate towards his irises.

_Good God_, he thought, _what the hell has that piece of alien space junk done to me?_

He closed his mouth, still aware of the faint humming and the slight tingling sensation within his throat. It was gradually working its way down into the rest of his body but it probably wouldn't be so pronounced for several days. The rate of change was slow, perhaps hinting at the All-spark shard's lack of power after being used so many times.

Weller composed himself, figuring that if he was still alive then things weren't so bad. Aside from the annoying inner machine-like humming he could hear he was normal…at least he felt that way. He was about to call the Captain in when he felt a sharp pain shoot through his brain which caused him to clutch at his forehead, the Colonel able to feel the pain recede almost as quickly as it had come.

He turned around, heading back to his desk. He glanced down at the photos and realized then that he could understand every piece of alien writing in them. On impulse he picked up a pen and began scribbling into a notepad which lay on his desk, writing alien symbol after alien symbol. To other humans it would have looked like artistic gibberish but to him he was simply copying down the writings from the pictures of the ruins in Venezuela, except this time he could understand everything they said.

As he wrote, visions flickered through his mind. He could see the metallic sphere known as Cybertron…he could see the devastated cities that dotted its surface…he could see the one standing over it all, the massive being with the wings and the red eyes…

_The Chaos Bringer. The Destroyer. The Anti-Christ. The Goddamned Devil himself. And these stupid-ass robots call him…Unicron. Dear God…he's the size of a damn planet!_

Weller continued to scribble down the alien writings, reciting what they said under his breath. He didn't even know he was speaking since it was all just a reflexive action to him as he wrote whole walls of text into his small notepad. Soon enough he ran out of paper on the notepad and started writing on the desk, still speaking to himself.

"_Before you lies a shrine to our Lord Unicron…banished from our universe and forced to exist within the void outside of it…"_

The knowledge of a whole alien civilization had been downloaded right into Weller's brain. Unlike what had happened to Sam Witwicky, Weller had been exposed to far too much for a human mind. Where Sam Witwicky had learnt the location of the energon harvester and little else, Colonel Weller had been exposed to the whole wealth of knowledge of the Cybertron race that was millions of years old. Most of it simply left his brain immediately since there simply wasn't enough room…what was left drove the Colonel mad. At least, not yet. Madness took time.

Weller started writing on the sides of his desk as more and more alien symbols floated into his mind. He could see the whole galaxy within his mind and all of the planets, stars and other celestial bodies that the galaxy consisted of…he suddenly had a grasp of some of the most advanced physics that even Einstein would have had trouble with. And for some reason, Weller found that this whole wealth of knowledge felt…good. He was onto something, he could see that much. So he continued writing, forgetting about the changes that were taking place within him. He knew so much that he had to get it down somewhere.

* * *

**A/N:** And so that begins one story "thread". The next few chapters focus on NEST, who have been dispatched to Holland for thse of you who might have forgotten. So far, things are only beginning. By the way, thanks for the reviews folks.


	16. Contact

**Part III: The Spear of Destiny  
**"_But one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out."  
_Gospel of John 19:34

**

* * *

**

**Contact  
**Somewhere near the town of Groningen, Holland (Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

The countryside of Holland was mostly rolling green plains and woodland, with its fair share of farmland and streams of water. In the north-east of the country was the fairly old city of Groningen, a rather modern and urbanised place that was located a fair distance from the northern coast of the country but still close enough to allow daily visits to the beaches.

Today was an especially cold day, with overcast clouds that put dim shadows across the whole country landscape. It was especially fitting since a serious military operation was in place several miles east of Groningen, one that had made sure to cordon off all approaches to the Barrier Dam and the countryside near it.

A main camp had been set up amongst the woodland and was patrolled by several Dutch soldiers. Large tents and temporary structures had been erected and carefully constructed within a hastily set up wire fence. Along the nearby roads security checkpoints had been placed which denied any civilian access to the area beyond the military cordon. According to official reports there had been a chemical spill when a freight train carrying hazardous substances derailed and spilt its contents across the countryside. Of course, there were a number of people who knew the truth: there had been no chemical spill; rather there was something much different and far more dangerous going on that the Dutch military didn't want to tell its public about.

Within the temporary base camp there was one main tent, larger than the others and guarded by a pair of soldiers at its front entrance. Only a short drive from the base camp was a landing strip and there had been a few recent new arrivals at this landing strip, some of which were standing within the main tent at the base camp now.

The interior of the main tent was mostly taken up by tables and shelving units. On the main table in the centre of the tent a large map of the region had been laid out with several areas on it marked with red crosses and circles. A few technicians sat at nearby computers and communications stations, listening to incoming reports and taking notes about the readings the men already in the cordoned off zone were receiving. It seemed that these Dutch soldiers were fairly well organized, having set up this whole camp within the space of twenty-four hours and had managed to get it up and running successfully. The whole lockdown operation was being organized from this main camp and it seemed to be going well.

Of course, looks could be deceiving. Major William Lennox knew this all too well. This lockdown operation may appear that it was running smoothly while in fact the Dutch military had no idea about what they were up against and were unsure why Lennox and a team of American soldiers had arrived.

The cover story of a chemical spill was standard procedure for this sort of operation. Lennox had been given the appropriate papers and authority to relieve the General here of his command when necessary since there was no doubt about what they were up against. Lennox could tell that this was no false alarm, unlike previous journeys across the world to locate Decepticons which had in fact been false or misinterpreted.

A pair of jets roared up high as they sped on into the lockdown zone, probably in order to gather some reconnaissance data. Lennox tugged at his collar, feeling that his uniform was somewhat ill-fitted for the rather cold conditions outside. It was an unmarked uniform in the sense that it lacked the signature NEST arm-patch, hence the Dutch military men here wouldn't have reason to ask them questions about just who they were.

Lennox had never been a fan of working with the military of another country but this was often what happened if they were the ones to discover the potential Decepticon threat first, before NEST did. Understandably the country's military would be put on high alert when faced with a dangerous and technologically advanced enemy but it was up to NEST to come in and ensure that the secret of the existence of the Decepticons stayed what it already was: a secret. Only the highest echelons of the United States government knew of the existence of the Cybertronian race and its actions on Earth over the past few years. There was no reason to get the governments of other countries in on the secret since it would no doubt cause distrust to form between them and the United States government. They had kept this secret for too long for it to be simply disclosed now, hence why organizations such as NEST had to ensure that other nations were kept in the dark. This was often tricky since the Decepticons NEST hunted caused much trouble in other nations, this sort of thing made more evident by the attack on Shanghai and Egypt only last year.

Hence, Lennox was always uneasy when it came to working with other nation's militaries. They often asked questions, questions that Lennox couldn't answer without disclosing too much about what NEST did and what enemies they were up against.  
Standing in the tent with him was Chief Master Sergeant Robert Epps who seemed to be a bit uneasy. Lennox felt the same since it was always difficult working with another country's military, especially when they were meant to be kept in the dark to NEST's operations.

Captain Graham Winters stood to the left of Lennox, looking as calm and collected as he always was. He was looking at the map laid out on the table in front of them, taking note of the few areas marked on it. He was probably trying to determine just what the Dutch military knew of the situation, which didn't seem to be much.

The front entrance of the tent was pushed open and a man in a General's uniform with greying hair and a clean-shaven face stepped inside, noticing the three American Special Forces men standing inside the tent. He seemed bemused at their presence but soon remembered that he was supposed to be expecting them so he continued on into the tent, closing the entrance flap behind him.

Lennox, Epps and Graham managed a salute each towards the stern looking Dutch General who simply nodded in acknowledgment, stepping over to the table where the map had been laid out. He glanced at each of the three Americans (or two Americans and one Brit, just to be more precise) and then turned to the man sitting at the bank of communications machines in the corner.

Lennox could tell that this particular General wasn't fond of interloping Americans, perhaps hinting at previous experience he had had in the past. Lennox listened as the General said something in Dutch that sounded like a question and the man at the radio looked up, replying with a shrug and brief verbal response (which was also in Dutch). The General frowned and then turned to face Lennox, sensing that Lennox was the one in charge of the group.

"What did they say?" Epps whispered to Graham, curious as to the nature of the exchange that had just occurred.

"I don't know," Graham replied, frowning, "what makes you think I speak Dutch?"  
Epps shrugged, turning to look towards the Dutch General who was waiting for them to finish talking. He cleared his throat in order to make this look more obvious and Lennox nudged Epps who got the drift and turned his attention towards the Dutch General.

"Americans," the Dutch General said simply, a slight frown crossing his face when he said this.

"Actually sir, I'm British," Graham interjected. The General shot a look at the Captain that more or less said "I don't care", inclining the British officer to be quiet.

"I'm General Izaac Rutgers," the General said, figuring it was best he start with introductions first.

Lennox realized that maybe this General didn't like them too much, especially since they were already interfering with his operation here. So far one of the advisors NEST had brought with them had made sure to tell the Dutch soldiers here what they were doing wrong much to their discontent, something that probably only annoyed them more than it helped them.

Lennox figured he should just play along with whatever the General had to say.

"I'm Major William Lennox," Lennox said before gesturing to Epps, "and this is Chief Master Sergeant Robert Epps." He then gestured to Graham. "And finally we have Captain Graham Winters…"

The General regarded each of them in turn with a somewhat cold look as he made his first impressions of them. Lennox could already tell that things weren't going to be easy when it came to speaking to this General.

"Right," General Rutgers said simply once the introductions were finished, "you know, I wasn't quite told just why you Americans have to get involved here. My troops have the situation under control, unless of course you Americans have a better way of running things? Because if so, go ahead and tell me. I would really like to hear it." General Rutgers gave an expectant look but neither Lennox nor Epps nor Graham replied which was enough of an excuse for the Dutch General to keep talking.

"I thought as much," General Rutgers said, pausing for a moment as he considered what to say next. "So, Major Lennox, are you going to tell me why you're here or are we just going to stand here and stare at each other? I do have a schedule to stick to and currently you're interfering with it…"

"Oh, uh…sorry," Lennox replied, realizing that he, Epps and Graham must look like total morons to the General right about now. Lennox decided that they should get right down to business which meant starting with the background information of this operation which in turn meant trying to find out just how this whole incident had started.

"Well, uh, General," Lennox began, finding it oddly hard to form a cohesive sentence. Maybe it was just nerves…or maybe it was the stern look that the General was directing his way. It was hard to tell.

"Go on, Major," the General said, furthering the uneasiness in the room whilst glancing at the watch he wore around his left wrist, "I'm waiting. I haven't all day."

"I'm from a special branch of the United States military," Lennox said, finally finding the right words. He composed himself and continued to explain his position, using the same standard cover story they always used. They even had the identification cards and papers to go with this cover story.

"We specialise in cases such as the one you've encountered here, outside Groningen," Lennox continued, "and I have authorization from your government that allows my men to take command over the situation here."

"Situation?" The General seemed flustered at the sheer thought of actual papers that allowed Lennox to take charge. The Major decided to continue while he had the advantage, reaching into a pocket on his uniform and removing the aforementioned papers. Of course, these papers were in fact organized by NEST after pressuring the Dutch military brass to allow them. No one in the upper echelons of the Dutch government knew just exactly what was going on here but Lennox and his men knew enough.

"What do you know of this apparent 'situation', Major?" General Rutgers frowned, annoyed at the intrusion by these Americans in his operation, "all I know is that there's been a chemical spill…"

Lennox wasn't able to stop himself from grinning when he heard this. He unfolded the papers and skimmed through them before handing them to the General who began reading through them, his eyes widening as he saw the appropriate signatures and the information the papers detailed.

"But…how could you know?" He said, looking up with a look of surprise etched on his ageing features, "it was top secret…highest security clearance…and yet a bunch of no-good Americans such as yourselves learn about it?"

Epps was the one to reply, smiling at the once pompous General's reaction.

"We have our sources, General," he said, "Let's just say they're somewhat…_different_ to anything you might know about."

The General regarded the papers he had been given and then frowned, looking towards Lennox with some annoyance. Obviously the facts of the matter were only just dawning on him, a reaction that Lennox had encountered with others like the Dutch General in past NEST operations with other nation's militaries.

"We know about the remains you found in the Arnhem River," Lennox said, reciting what he had been told in the briefing back at Diego Garcia, "and we also know that they were since shipped to a government facility near the Barrier Dam. Obviously those remains weren't as dead as you were hoping they were since…"

"Something's out there," the General finished, shaking his head. He looked at the three NEST soldiers and then gestured towards the map laid out on the table. He tapped his fingers on one of the sections that had been circled in red marker.

Lennox stepped forward and looked down at the part of the map the General had indicated, noticing the road that went along the map from a small cluster of buildings some distance from the Barrier Dam.

"One of my patrols made first contact with…_something_ on the road leading away from the government facility," General Rutgers explained, seemingly resigned to how he had been relieved of his leadership role by the government authorized papers, "originally we had been called to investigate a twenty-four hour loss of contact with the facility. The patrol that went in first managed to radio out about some sort of…well…"

"Some sort of machine-like creature?" Epps suggested. Lennox exchanged glances with him, realizing that they were treading a fine line here when it came to disclosing information they weren't meant to. Epps simply shrugged, having been trying to help.

The General looked up, the words having struck a chord somewhere. He nodded, giving the notion a moment of careful thought.

"That's precisely what the soldier who radioed us said," General Rutgers replied, looking incredulous as to Epps' knowledge of the threat, "why, it seems to me you men have encountered this sort of thing before…"

"Like I said," Lennox interrupted, deciding to steer the conversation back to its primary topic and away from classified matters, "we, uh…_specialise_ in this sort of thing. That's why we came all the way over from the United States to here to help."

"That's how much we care," Graham added, nodding and grinning at the same time. He received an odd look from Lennox and so quickly fell silent, leaving the Major do the talking.

"The radio sort of cut out before our man who was calling could tell us anymore," the General continued, "this is probably because of the explosion that we heard over the line before the call abruptly ended. It would seem that they were attacked by…something. I don't know what so all I can really do here is keep the area locked down and stop anything from going in…or out."

Lennox nodded, thinking about this. The General had done good to lockdown the area, it was just a surprise that the Decepticon in question hadn't simply tried to break through the Dutch defences and leave. Maybe it was simply biding its time, or maybe it was looking for something. It was hard to determine.

"Anything else happen after this?" Lennox asked, deciding to try and learn as much as he could of the situation and the enemy before deciding on a course of action.

The General nodded, pointing to another marked section on the map. It seemed this part was on the same road, albeit somewhat close to a farm.

"Here, a convoy of vehicles I sent into the region earlier this morning was attacked and destroyed by whatever it is that's out there," Rutgers said, "I lost about thirty soldiers because of this. Still, I have no idea as to who the enemy is…except for the rumours about the government facility and what they were doing there. It seems that secret government facilities out in the middle of nowhere are built solely so that something can go dreadfully wrong inside them."

Lennox nodded in agreement, thinking back to Hoover Dam and what had happened there. This seemed like a similar sort of occurrence, except that the remains of the Decepticon that the Dutch had found and sent to this facility had turned out to be rather…alive. It was safe to assume that there was a Decepticon out loose in the countryside.

This would make a welcome change from the urbanized areas where Decepticons had been encountered in the past. There would be less chance of civilians seeing the Decepticon or any of the Autobots in their robot forms, thus a major cover-up operation would not be needed.

"The rumours?" Lennox probed deeper into the mystery that was the situation here. They had no indication as to what Decepticon, if they had encountered it before, they would be going up against. It may even be a brand new one…which might hint towards further incursions. However, what the Decepticon had been doing in the Arnhem River prior to being shipped here (while presumed dead) was unknown. Perhaps they would find more answers at the government facility?

"Being a General, I am in the sort of position where I hear all sorts of gossip," the General replied, "I heard about there having been something found in the Arnhem river. The curious thing is…rather than show the signs of having been underwater for decades it appeared as if these 'remains' had been in the water for only a short time. However, so many people have checked out the bottom of the river that it would have been impossible to miss something like this before.

"The government facility where they shipped the remains is in fact an old decommissioned military base, one that had been mostly destroyed by the Germans back in the Second World War. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had decided to take up residence and do all sorts of, uh…secretive activities there." The General paused, allowing Lennox, Epps and Graham to think through what he had said. "I also wouldn't be surprised if what we're up against is some sort of prototype military weapon, like an attack drone, that has gone haywire and is now on a rampage."

Lennox nodded again, realizing that prototype military drones going haywire was one of NEST's most used cover stories after an operation where they had taken on the Decepticons had occurred. It had been the one used to cover up the events in Shanghai and Egypt last year, although the giant alien super weapon concealed within the great pyramid at Giza had had to be covered up with some other story. It occurred to Lennox that there may be people out there who were getting suspicious of all of these rampant military drones and may even be out searching for any truth to these stories…he already knew of a number of websites that boasted the existence of alien robots. They were closer to the truth than most people in the government would have wanted them to be.

"Do you know what we're up against, Major?" The General asked. This question caught Lennox slightly off guard. The Major looked towards the General, his train of thought effectively derailed.

"I have an idea," Lennox replied, "and you might be right about the haywire military robot. Technology nowadays is getting quite advanced, more than any of us might think. Military robots…well, maybe they aren't too far away after all."

The General seemed to agree with this statement which was all the better since Lennox had further taken him off of the scent of there being an alien robot on the loose in the countryside. He doubted the General was the type of person who would even consider the notion of alien robots as a possibility anyway.

"So, since I'm supposed to let you and your troops run the show according to these papers, what is it that you suggest we do?" The General's voice was laced with some dislike towards the fact that his position had been usurped by some intruding Americans but there was little he could do about it.

Lennox thought about their options, tapping the old military base that was marked on the map laid out on the table. Their best bet was to simply go straight in and hope they could rout out this Decepticon as well as find answers within the Dutch military base. There was probably some degree of secrecy about this base if it was in fact just supposed to be a decommissioned facility. That secrecy was obviously long gone with the advent of the loose Decepticon.

"I'll be taking a team straight to this base," Lennox decided, "that way we'll be able to determine if it's decommissioned or not after all."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Major?" The General sounded a little doubtful towards Lennox's plan and found that the Major's confidence was perhaps slightly misguided. "If that thing, whatever it is, is still out there then what's stopping it from attacking you?"

Lennox's mind drifted to the Autobots, all of which were currently in their vehicle modes and waiting at the nearby airstrip. All Lennox had to do was call them over his radio and they would be here within minutes, allowing the mission to get started right away.

"I have a few things that might work against it," Lennox said, grinning slightly. He noticed that Epps was nodding in agreement to this statement while General Rutgers simply raised an eyebrow, curious as to why these Americans were so confident. He came to the conclusion that they were more stupid in this regard than anything else.

"Like what?" The General asked.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Lennox replied simply, reciting the motto of NEST. The General simply shook his head, unsure of what to think of this whole operation and whether working with these cocky Americans would be a smart thing to do…or not.

"Oh yes, is that so?" The General replied, intrigued. Lennox nodded again and when the General saw that he was being dead serious he quickly composed himself, suddenly looking a little uneasy. It was obvious the balance of power had shifted within the command tent considerably, where once General Rutgers had been the most intimidating man inside but now it seemed that Lennox, Epps and Graham had achieved this position.

"If you excuse me, I have to go out and use the bathroom," the General said, starting for the tent's entrance and exit flap, "by 'bathroom' I mean outhouse. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Once he was gone Epps turned to Lennox, shaking his head. Lennox relaxed considerably while Graham proceeded to look at the map spread out across the table again.

"That guy is an ass," Epps said bluntly, "but we showed him, didn't we? He has no idea what he's up against…"

"If he knew we would be in trouble," Lennox replied. He noticed that the Dutch technician seated at the radio in the corner seemed to be listening to them, although it was hard to tell whether or not he could understand English. Chances are he could.

"So, what do you think is out there?" Epps asked, "I mean, it's obvious the Dutch found a Decepticon…they just couldn't work out whether it was dead or not until it woke up…"

"And decided to go on the rampage," Lennox finished, shaking his head. It sounded like a somewhat familiar set of circumstances, although this time they had no idea of what to expect.

"Well, if we're heading into ground zero," Graham said, looking up from the map on the table, "maybe we should organize the 'bots, you know? Get this mission started? I don't know about you but I can't wait to kick some Decepticon arse! It's been far too long since the last time…"

Lennox smiled at Graham's excitement towards the potential action they might face. Lennox wasn't usually one to get excited by anything but this time around he could feel the anticipation building inside him when he realized that yes, maybe they would finally get to kick some alien robot ass. It had been long enough since their last brush with a Decepticon and the lack of action was getting dull.

Lennox flicked on the radio clipped just below his left shoulder. The sooner they left for the supposedly decommissioned military base the better since there was a chance that the Decepticon out in the lockdown zone might try and escape. If that happened things would become much trickier.

"Optimus, are you there?" Lennox spoke into the radio, expecting to hear Optimus Prime's voice respond. This expectation was met and Optimus' somewhat authoritative sounding voice filtered back through the radio. Recently, or at least since Breakaway's arrival it seemed that Optimus had become more withdrawn than usual. Strangely enough this wasn't discernible in his voice now, as if whatever had caused this sort of withdrawal had gone away.

"_I am here, Major Lennox," _Optimus replied, _"What is it? Have you learned the extent of what is happening in this region?"_

"Sort of," Lennox replied, "turns out that the Dutch found something, probably a Decepticon. They took him to a base within the lockdown zone and it's safe to assume that he's escaped. We don't have any idea of what Decepticon we're dealing with here but standard procedure applies."

Lennox paused, deciding on how they would go about this mission. It occurred to him that they had a new asset in the form of the recently arrived Autobot Breakaway, so he decided that it was best to get him to start getting used to his new job here on Earth.

"Optimus, I want Breakaway to fly a reconnaissance sweep over the region to see if he detects anything that might be a Decepticon," Lennox said, "while you, Ironhide, Jolt and Sideswipe will form Strike Group Alpha. The three of you are to meet up with me just outside the Dutch temporary headquarters. The other Autobots can start a patrol along the perimeter of the lockdown zone. Is that understood?"

"_Loud and clear Major,"_ Optimus replied.

Lennox breathed a sigh of relief. The planning was out of the way. All they had to do now was actually head into the lockdown region and find out just what was going on here and if there was a Decepticon on the rampage. If so then the open countryside would make dealing with it a bit easier.

Lennox flicked off the radio and looked towards Epps and Graham. They looked expectantly at him but before the Major could say anything the sound of a jet roaring overhead became heard. It was obviously Breakaway, already on his airborne sweep of the area.

"I'm guessing that's our boy Breakaway?" Epps asked.

"You guess right," Lennox replied, stepping outside within the next few seconds and managing to catch a glimpse of the F-35 fighter jet with the desert camouflage pattern on it that went speeding past up high.

* * *

**A/N:** I must warn you folks, things get a bit darker from here on in. In fact, you could say that things get worse off for the good guys than is to be expected in an action-adventure story such as this. That's all I'm at liberty to say right now, though.


	17. Reconnaissance

**Reconnaissance  
**Somewhere outside Groningen, Holland (the Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

The blue Peterbuilt truck with the flame decals had gotten past the Dutch military cordon without hassle, receiving only a few odd glances from the Dutch soldiers that had seen it drive past. Following behind in a sort of convoy formation were a blue Chevrolet Volt, a silver Chevrolet Corvette Stringray Concept and a black GMC Topkick. This convoy of exotic vehicles certainly raised a few eyebrows amongst the Dutch soldiers guarding the roads but they had been told to let these vehicles and their occupants through, thus they had opened the security blockades on the roads and allowed the exotic vehicles to continue on into the locked down zone of Dutch countryside.

Even more strange were the noticeably armed American Special Forces soldiers seated within the vehicles. It seemed that this convoy of exotic vehicles had its own complement of armed soldiers, albeit ones belonging to a group vastly different to the Dutch military. Above, a jet with a brown desert camouflage pattern flew over every now and then, as if it was on some sort of reconnaissance gathering sortie.

The overcast sky had begun to clear as it approached one o'clock in the afternoon, allowing sunlight to filter on through and illuminate the often bright and somewhat tranquil Dutch countryside. Holland (otherwise known as the Netherlands depending on who you asked) was one of those European countries which had been left largely unspoilt by the rapid modernisation that many first world nations faced. Sure, there were plenty of modern cities but there was still plenty of open and unspoilt countryside to go with them in this particular European country. It was a welcome change to the base on Diego Garcia, the place the Autobots on Earth and the human operatives of NEST had been stuck with as a home for about two years now. It seemed odd that a Decepticon would even bother with such a place as Holland but the motives behind the Decepticon that was apparently out in this idyllic countryside were unknown to the Autobots and their human allies. Chances are they wouldn't find out just why the Decepticon had since remained in the one region since its apparent escape from the clutches of the Dutch military…unless they somehow managed to get the Decepticon to talk.

Seated in the driver's seat of the Peterbuilt truck with the flame decals was Major William Lennox. He had no need to clutch the steering wheel since the vehicle was more or less driving itself, as were the other vehicles in the convoy. It was rare for such vehicles to be seen in a country such as Holland but it was certainly less conspicuous than having a bunch of thirty-foot tall robots running around the place.

The Peterbuilt truck was in fact Optimus Prime simply in his vehicle form, a form that offered an effective disguise and prevented him from getting unnecessary attention. The blue Chevrolet Volt sports car following a few metres behind was in fact the Autobot Jolt in vehicle mode. In fact, all four vehicles were Autobots in disguise and all four vehicles were on their way to the supposedly decommissioned military base that was at the heart of the lockdown zone and apparently where the Decepticon that was on the loose had broken out from.

Behind Jolt the silver Chevrolet Stingray sports car was in fact the Autobot known as Sideswipe, the melee combat expert of the group. In robot form he was tall and had two wheels as feet, his arms ending in two large and razor sharp blades that could slice through nearly any material.

And finally, behind Jolt, was the black GMC Topkick truck which was in fact the Autobot weapon specialist Ironhide. The convoy of exotic vehicles was speeding along the country freeway, having left behind the military cordon to find the countryside rather empty of life. This meant they could get around without attracting too much attention, something that would undoubtedly come in handy since it meant they had less to cover-up when they were done. The less people that were around the better, something that was the case for any NEST operation.

Lennox felt a bit odd, sitting in the driver's seat but having no need to drive the vehicle. The steering wheel seemingly turned itself although it was in fact Optimus who was doing it, seeing as the steering wheel was part of him. It was the sort of thing that most people had trouble wrapping their heads around although Lennox had gotten used to the mind-boggling sciences that went with the alien robots, preferring to focus on the more important matters such as the mission ahead.

Sitting next to Lennox in the passenger seat was Master Sergeant Epps and he was gazing out of the side window, watching the trees and meadows roll past as the vehicle sped along the country freeway. He glanced over at Lennox, noticing just how quiet things had been for most of the trip.

Lennox had a standard M4 rifle laid on his lap, one that had a grenade launcher attached under the barrel. It was standard-issue but for something standard-issue it certainly didn't have much effect on Decepticons. Standard bullets just weren't cut out for what NEST took on, apparently. Still, they were given the rifles and they sure as hell weren't going to race into a potentially dangerous situation unarmed. It was better to have a weapon than to not have one at all, a philosophy that every human in NEST seemed to have started living by. Besides, if all went well on this operation then it would be Optimus and the rest of the Autobots that would be doing the majority of the shooting and not Lennox or any of the people under his command.

The approach was simple: they were heading straight to the military base at the heart of the lockdown area in an attempt to determine just where the Decepticon had come from and how it had escaped. If it had been found dead by the Dutch, only to turn out to be alive later on then there would be answers as to how this had occurred at the supposedly decommissioned World War Two military base. Of course, it was fairly obvious that it had been in use for a number of recent years since satellite imagery showed a fairly new set of buildings mixed with a few old dilapidated ones.

"Damn, it sure is quiet out here," Epps commented, the words bringing Lennox out of his thoughts. The Major looked up, able to tell that it was indeed quiet. Outside, the only real sounds were those of the birds of calling and the sounds of the engines of the vehicles in the convoy. There didn't seem to be any other noises within earshot, almost as if someone had switched them off.

Then again, there wasn't much around that could possibly create much noise. The light breeze that billowed across the countryside lightly rattled the foliage of the trees that lined the road while up above, the Autobot Breakaway in his vehicle form of an F-35 fighter jet zoomed over as he continued on his high-up reconnaissance flight.

"How's our boy in the sky doing?" Epps asked as Breakaway flew over, "has he still got a fix on the Decepticon?"

Lennox flicked on the radio clipped to his uniform just below his left shoulder, speaking into it as it broadcasted to Breakaway. Lennox figured that it had been about time for another check on the airborne Autobot's progress in order to find out if any unexpected developments had occurred.

"Breakaway, this is Major Lennox," Lennox said, glancing up at the road ahead through the windscreen. It was hard to tell whether or not they were nearing the "decommissioned" military base since trees lined either side of the freeway and effectively obscured from view anything that might have been behind them.

"Do you have a reading on our target yet?" Lennox asked. So far none of the Autobots had been successful in getting an exact fix on the Decepticon's location since it seemed that there was some sort of interference in the region. Whatever was causing it was also wreaking havoc with the reception over the radio since Breakaway's voice came back faint and hissing with static.

"_I have many suspicious energy readings but no exact fix on the location of our target,"_ Breakaway replied, _"There is still far too much of this interference. My estimates would place the Decepticon we're after within a mile of where you're headed now, Major."_

"A mile?" Lennox raised an eyebrow. This meant there was a chance that the Decepticon would be at the military base. Epps heard this and frowned, realizing that they might end up in a firefight upon their arrival at the base. Just to make sure he was prepared Epps slapped a magazine into his M4 rifle, locking it into place.

"_Yes, Major," _Breakaway replied, _"It is possible that the Decepticon is at the base. I would proceed with caution."_

"So would I," Epps said from the passenger seat.

"It'll save us some legwork if he is there," said Sideswipe's gruff voice from over the radio. Sideswipe was always the cocky one of the Autobots in NEST and he seemed to pride himself in this position.

"Understood Breakaway," Lennox said, ignoring Sideswipe's interjection, "keep us posted on any changes. Lennox out."  
Lennox switched off the radio and looked up, noticing that Optimus had driven them onto a narrower road that broke off from the main one. The Autobot leader obviously knew where he was going, probably having accessed the appropriate part of the Internet to find a map. It seemed that a lot of the spare time the Autobots had was spent surfing the World Wide Web since it was the one resource that they could access from any point on the Earth's surface. They didn't call it the 'World Wide Web' for nothing.

"You hear that Optimus?" Lennox said, looking towards the radio set within the dashboard, "we could be heading right into trouble. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, though."

Optimus' voice filtered through the radio, sounding as soothingly confident and authoritative as ever.

"We'll be ready, Major," Optimus replied, "We always are."

"I would prefer to think that, but it has been a while since our last outing," Epps interjected, some cynicism to his voice, "we could have all become a bit…" He paused, trying to find the right word. "We could have all become a bit rusty from this lack of action."

"Rusty?" The confusion was evident in the Autobot's voice. "I assure you, Sergeant, I have not a single spot of rust on me."

Lennox and Epps exchanged glances, Lennox simply shrugging at the typical Autobot response. Epps just rolled his eyes.

There was a short pause, one that was awfully silent. Epps seemed to be unhappy with the silence within the truck's cabin, as evidenced in what he had said earlier.

"How long till we arrive at the base?" He asked. The answer from Optimus was as immediate and precise as always.

"About twenty-one minutes, Sergeant."

Epps considered the answer briefly.

"Twenty-one minutes?" He thought about this, as if thinking over their options on what they could do during this time. "I'll be damned if I spend the next twenty-one minutes in silence. Put some music on Optimus, it'll help lighten the mood."

The radio within the cabin flickered into life, the speakers emitting a few confused garbles that were commonly heard when flicking through stations. After a few seconds what sounded like some sort of Dutch easy-listening song came on, filling the interior of the cabin with a somewhat soothing tune that Lennox would have expected to hear being played inside a shopping mall.

"Uh…thanks," Epps said, unsure of whether the song was an improvement over the silence or not.

Lennox managed a glance at the rear view mirror, able to see the rest of the convoy following close behind as they had been for the whole trip. Captain Graham Winters sat in the driver's seat of Jolt's vehicle form which was travelling just behind them and he was talking with the other NEST soldier seated in the passenger seat next to him. The two seemed to be having a lively conversation, something that wasn't in any way a surprise since Graham was the talkative type.

For another ten minutes the convoy cruised along, heading onto a narrow dirt road that branched off of the tarmac one. This dirt road had seen little use during the years of its existence and thus was covered in dry leaves and full of pot holes. The ride was bumpy as Optimus simply sped over the uneven road at the same speed he had been travelling on the proper roads, completely oblivious to how his two human occupants were being jolted about in their seats. Lennox made sure to strap on his seatbelt as did Epps, especially since the uneven dirt road continued on for a while.

"It's hard to believe that a Decepticon would bother with a place like this," Epps said as the road evened out somewhat, providing a much smother and less bumpy ride along. "I mean, it's all just idyllic countryside. What the hell could a Decepticon want in Holland? It's _Holland_, of all places. It ain't Shanghai…it ain't Egypt…"

Lennox shrugged. They could only speculate as to why a Decepticon had chosen Holland as a place to wreak havoc and even then it had seemingly done so sparingly, having destroyed only a few Dutch patrols and little else.

However, the destruction it had caused during its brief time out here was made far more evident as the convoy rolled to a stop before the smouldering wreck of a Dutch military truck. The truck was still smoking from the damage it had taken while a few scorched bodies of Dutch soldiers lay near it. The truck wasn't blocking the way forward but even so it still deserved to be investigated, something that Lennox was already in the process of doing as he stepped out of his vehicle to take a look.

As he approached the scene of destruction he noticed what appeared to be a shimmering blue residue that had congealed around the wreck of the truck, almost like moss or lichen. This residue glowed brightly, even in the sunlight. He became aware of a burning metallic stench, a smell that was enough to make his eyes water slightly and his nose burn.

It wasn't only one truck that had been destroyed. Beyond it were another two trucks, both of which had been left with large smouldering holes in their sides as if something had opened fire on them with a powerful weapon, one that was capable of searing straight through metal.

On a closer inspection of the large holes blown in the wrecked vehicles it seemed that there was more of the glowing blue residue on the edges of the holes themselves. It was made certain in Lennox's mind that no human weapon could have left such a strange by-product behind so the possibility of a Decepticon on the loose was made almost a certainty.

Epps stepped up alongside Lennox, taking a look at the wrecked truck in front of them and the few bodies sprawled nearby.

"What the hell is that smell?" Epps said, coughing as the sheer taste of the air stung his throat, "it stinks…it smells worse than…well, I don't know what to compare it to since it is _that_ bad."

Lennox nodded in agreement, putting two of his fingers of his right hand onto the edge of one of the large burned holes in the wreck of the truck. The glowing blue residue there immediately burned his fingers, causing him to retract his hand back in pain as the heat left a slight burn on his fingertips.

Whatever this stuff was it certainly deserved to be analysed. He turned to Optimus who was still parked behind them in his truck form, obviously watching the pair as were the other Autobots and NEST soldiers.

"What do you make of this, Optimus?" Lennox asked, gesturing towards the glowing blue residue that had congealed on parts of the vehicle and the surrounding ground.

Immediately Optimus had risen into full robot form, peering towards the destroyed vehicle as his sensors took readings of the residue in order to discern its properties. However, after a few moments of this a look of either surprise or uncertainty crossed the Autobot's metallic features, although it was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking. Robots like him were always hard to read.

However, the vibes Lennox picked up from the Autobot leader were more than enough to make him feel slightly uneasy towards the situation. If something could faze Optimus Prime like it was now then it must have been dangerous.

"How peculiar," Optimus said, his voice laced with uncertainty whilst sounding distant, as if his mind had been overcome with other thoughts, "this…this is strange. I..."

"What is it?" Epps frowned, sensing the Autobot's discourse on the matter. "Is it dangerous? What does it mean?"

Optimus shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his mind of something. He peered down towards Lennox and Epps before bending his knees and lowering himself closer to the ground. He put one metal finger towards a cluster of the residue that had congealed on the ground near the destroyed truck and he brought it back up. The metal on his finger was smoking away as the residue ate away at him and immediately Optimus rubbed it back off onto the ground, obviously in discomfort.

If this stuff could eat away at the armour of a technologically advanced alien robot then there was no telling what it could do to a human being. Lennox suddenly had the urge to wash his hands.

"We should continue onwards, to the base," Optimus said, still sounding distant. There was something else on his mind, Lennox could tell this much. However, before the Major had anymore time to read the Autobot's features Optimus had reverted back to his vehicle form of the Peterbuilt truck. Epps walked over and climbed back into the passenger seat while Lennox stood where he was, looking around at the ground near his feet. There seemed to be quite a lot of this strange blue-white residue and when Lennox stepped forward to head back to the truck he absently stepped into a small puddle of the stuff, suddenly able to smell burnt rubber as the sole of his right military boot began to burn away. He quickly brought his foot back up, frowning with uncertainty.

It was obvious that the residue was unstable enough to more or less eat away at any surface it came in contact with when disturbed. Where it was now it simply remained still but when disturbed it reacted…implying that it was extremely unstable. It was also unnerving to think that they were up against an enemy that presumably used this volatile substance…or energy…or whatever it was to its advantage.

Lennox climbed back into the driver's seat within Optimus' truck mode, closing the door behind him. Once he was in Optimus began driving again, the rest of the convoy following as they headed past the destroyed patrol of Dutch military vehicles. The military base wasn't far now, made obvious by an old dirty sign that sat on a rotting wooden post by the road. On it was much Dutch writing in big letters but from the overall look of the sign Lennox assumed it meant 'KEEP OUT'.

It occurred to him that Optimus wasn't telling him everything. The way he had reacted when he had seen the residue…it was as if it had stirred up some deep memories. It implied that Optimus had seen it before but it was obvious the Autobot wasn't quite willing to share the story. Lennox would have to speak to him about it later…right now they had other things to do, such as determine the exact nature of the enemy they were up against.

Soon enough the narrow dirt road was impeded by a fallen rusty metal gate, one that was part of a perimeter wire fence topped with barbed wire. Beyond, nestled amongst the foliage were a set of old buildings including a few run-down looking hangars. At first glance it looked like the place hadn't seen use for years but what gave this deceitful appearance away was the presence of a few modern day vehicles parked within the grounds of the compound, as well as the obviously recently constructed helipad off to one corner of the compound. The forest had been cleared for some distance around the compound in an effort to thwart potential enemy advances…unfortunately for the people who had run the compound it seemed that the enemy had come from _within_ and not from outside.

The doors of the biggest hangar had been forced by something almost equally big, both doors lying on the ground outside. The inside of the hangar looked far cleaner and much more modern than its outside appearance, implying that someone had gone to extreme lengths to give the impression of a dilapidated and abandoned military base.

Optimus pulled to a stop at where the wire gate lay dented and knocked partway onto the ground. Ahead one of the smaller buildings had been reduced to rubble while the smouldering hulk of a destroyed Jeep was parked nearby. The bodies of deceased Dutch soldiers lay scattered across the grounds of the military compound while more of the suspicious blue residue had congealed on surfaces near where significant activity had occurred.

"Looks like the shit hit the fan," Epps commented. He was right: something bad had happened here, although this much was obvious merely be looking at the ruined compound.

Lennox thought about their plan of approach for a moment, considering their options. Finally, he took up his rifle and pushed open his side's door. He spoke in his radio to the rest of the group, alerting them to the plan.

"Optimus, Jolt: you're both coming with Epps and myself. Sideswipe and Ironhide are to keep guard on the perimeter, along with second squad. Graham and Douglas, you're with Epps and me as well."

First squad consisted of Graham and the other NEST soldier with him, Lieutenant Douglas as well as Lennox and Epps. This group of four humans went ahead before the fallen wire gate while Optimus and Jolt stood followed them in full robot mode. Ironhide and Ratchet, as well as the four-soldier second squad had already headed off to patrol the perimeter of the compound.

Lennox, Epps, Graham and Douglas stepped over the fallen wire gate. They passed a small guard booth which contained two dead Dutch soldiers who had both been peppered with numerous large calibre rounds, leaving a rather bloody mess on the walls and floor of the booth. More of the strange residue had congealed on their corpses, as if it was a by-product of the weapons the enemy had used to kill them.

The surrounding forest was strangely quiet, as if the ambient noise level had been turned off by some sort of magic switch. It was an eerie atmosphere within the old military compound, this much was certain. Lennox leaded the group towards the wrecked main hangar, the four humans two Autobots heading inside the vast space of the hangar. Within a whole bank of computers and screens had been set up, reminiscent of the control centre for NEST back on Diego Garcia. The bodies of scientists and Dutch soldiers lay scattered throughout the hangar while more of the strange blue residue had congealed on the floor near scorch marks left by the weapons of the enemy.

Jolt stood guard near the destroyed hangar doors while Lennox, Epps, Graham, Douglas and Optimus continued into the hangar itself. Lennox approached the main bank of computers, noticing how most were destroyed and unusable. However, he did come across an intact computer over in the corner which was had been left switched on.

"There's that smell again," Epps said, sniffing the air. It was thick with the pungent smell they had encountered earlier, the sort of mix between burning rubber and molten metal. It smelt the strongest towards the metal pad set within the centre of the hangar where several broken metal cables lay scattered, as if something had broken free of them and proceeded to slaughter the entire base's personnel.

Lennox stopped by the intact computer, noticing the several papers that were scattered on the desk near it. He picked up a few and a number of photographs slipped out of them, one of which landed right in front of him on the desk. He frowned at what he saw within the photo, picking it up in order to get a closer look.

It was a close-up of what was no doubt a large and imposing looking Decepticons, with its red eyes and mean-looking metallic features. Its exoskeleton beared what looked to be tank parts, hinting at what it changed into. What struck Lennox as a surprise was how this was one Decepticon they had never seen before.

"What do you think happened here?" Epps said, stopping alongside Lennox and looking at the photo.

Lennox sifted through the papers on the desk, trying to find any useful information. Unfortunately he couldn't read or speak Dutch so none of it was particularly helpful.

"They obviously found a Decepticon," Lennox said, nodding towards the photo, "since it looks dead in this picture. I doubt it really was though."

Optimus, meanwhile, had stepped over to the metal pad in the centre of the hangar and peering down at it where more of the strange residue had congealed. It was as if everywhere the Decepticon went it left behind the unstable substance, hinting that this new Decepticon was somewhat different when compared to all of the others NEST had encountered before.

Lennox took the photos he had found and headed over to where Optimus stood, figuring that the Autobot leader may know something of this Decepticon.

"Hey, Optimus," Lennox said as he approached the Autobot. Optimus turned around, looking down at him. The Autobot leader seemed a tad distant but Lennox dismissed this as a simple "bad feeling" about this whole mission. Hell, even Lennox was feeling the same. There was something undoubtedly wrong with this whole situation, as if something didn't quite add up. Whatever it was it was eating away at Lennox's thoughts like some sort of parasite.

"Take a look at these photos," he said, handing some of them to Optimus who in turn peered at them carefully, "it's obvious the people here were running some sort of top secret operation. I'm guessing they found that guy who seemed dead enough…until yesterday when all contact with this base was lost. Have you seen this guy before?"

Optimus handed back the photos, simply nodding. Lennox raised an eyebrow although he knew he shouldn't be too surprised by this development. Who knew how many Decepticons Optimus and the other Autobots had fought prior to coming to Earth?

"Yes, I have encountered him before Major," Optimus replied, sounding a bit distant as if he was thinking of other things. Lennox could tell that there were some weighty things on the Autobot's mind, presumably brought on by the advent of this Decepticon that had broken loose in the Dutch countryside.

"You have?" Epps approached, "who is he?"

Optimus took a moment to answer, looking towards the pair of humans with what looked to be a serious expression on his metallic features. There was something oddly human about Optimus…it was probably the bright blue eyes.

"His name is Centurion," Optimus replied, "He is a Decepticon war criminal and rival of Megatron. He…"  
Optimus trailed off as Lennox's radio crackled into life. Breakaway's voice filtered through and everyone in the room turned their attention to the frantic tone the airborne Autobot had taken on.

Lennox didn't think much of the escaped Decepticon known as Centurion, especially when he heard what Breakaway had to announce. It was something he hadn't been expecting to even occur but there was always the possibility.

"_Major, I just detected several incoming…objects. They're hurtling through the atmosphere and are headed straight into the lockdown zone," _Breakaway said, sounding downright serious and a tad worried, _"I'm not sure what they are but they could be more Decepticons…"_

"More Decepticons?" Epps' eyes opened wide. "That can't be good."

Lennox considered their options. Why would more Decepticons be arriving all of a sudden right now? And why were they headed here anyway? There was little chance that Breakaway could be mistaken and Lennox swallowed as he felt a sudden bout of nerves coming on. There was no doubt that this operation was getting more and more interesting as it went on.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Lennox asked, deciding that he should make sure.

"_Positive,"_ Breakaway replied through the radio, _"they're even altering their trajectories in order to land closer to where I'm getting the most interference with my sensors. I don't think meteorites change course, Major."_

"Keep an eye out for us," Lennox replied, "and make sure to alert the others as well. We could be faced with a full-scale invasion."

Optimus had listened to all of this, thinking carefully about what was happening. There was no doubt in his mind that the Decepticons were arriving in order to rendezvous with Centurion, hinting that there was much more to what was happening than they thought.

"What are we going to do?" Graham stepped forward, keeping his cool despite the fact that they were in a potentially life threatening situation. "I mean, a year without any action and all of a sudden a whole lot show up at once. Seems fitting that way, doesn't it?"

Graham was probably right: the longer things went without any Decepticons showing up the more that would appear when something finally did occur. It was all happening now, this much was obvious.

"We're going to do what we came here to do," Lennox said, composing himself. His time in the military had taught him a number of things, one of which was that remaining calm and collected was a good way to approach a somewhat life threatening situation. Calm, collected and alert…Being alert was important, especially when the enemy was more technologically advanced than you were.

"Let's pack up here and move out," Lennox said, "we have some Decepticons to kill."

The team departed the hangar, heading outside just as several points of light appeared in the blue skies. It wasn't long before these points of light grew into flaming streaks as they shot across the Holland sky, giving the impression that a meteor show had begun. Lennox and the team watched as the flaming streaks spread out across the region, one of which landed in the forest near the compound. There was a loud _thud_ as the flaming streak slammed into the trees nearby sending dirt and smoke billowing upwards in a large explosion. Fire soon followed, the nearby trees catching alight.

Lennox and the group watched all of this happen from the front of the compound. Ironhide and Sideswipe came running over from their patrol of the perimeter, Ironhide being the one to alert them of the situation.

"There are at least two of them nearby," he said as he approached, "and they seem to be holding their ground. It's as if they're waiting for someone…"  
Lennox looked up at Optimus, noticing that the Autobot leader was watching the fire in the distance.

"What do you think, Optimus?" Lennox said, "Should we go and get these two?"

Optimus looked down at the Major, taking a moment to consider this suggestion. He nodded in reply a few seconds later.

"Let's go," he said simply.

Lennox smiled more to himself when he realized what was coming next. They were about to depart, so…

"Okay everybody!" He exclaimed, pointing towards the row of flaming trees further down the road where the Decepticon pod had landed, "ROLL OUT!"


	18. Meeting with Centurion

**Meeting with Centurion  
**Somewhere outside the town Groningen, Holland (the Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

The forest was silent, almost unearthly silent. There was the brief tweet of a bird but it ended almost as suddenly as it had began, falling quiet as a flaming meteor came zooming down from the heavens at a surprising speed. At its end it was possible to make out the pod itself, a flaming trail extending from its end as it streaked across the sky and slammed into the forest.

Fire, smoke and dirt erupted forth from the impact zone, nearby trees being felled amidst the explosion. The object wasn't in fact a meteor but a large metal pod, the type often used by the Cybertronian race for orbital drops onto the surface of planets. It sat at the end of a crater, still sizzling from its heated entry through the Earth's atmosphere.

It was a few moments before the top of the pod was pushed open, breaking off of its hinges as the large grey-silver figure stepped out, towering at least thirty feet tall. It was Megatron and he was barely fazed by the rough landing, simply shrugging off his spectacular entry as he gazed around at his surroundings.

Immediately he detected the distant life-readings of some Autobots, abut four of them, as well as several humans. He didn't care much for the humans; they were barely any threat to him. The Autobots, however, would be a much more dangerous threat. Of course, Megatron was confident he could handle anything that came his way and so stepped forth from the crater, putting his scanners into overdrive as he looked for any sign of Centurion.

The plan was simple, at least in his perception it was: he would find Centurion, offer his services and see if the rival Decepticon would tell him why he was on Earth. If it was a good reason that interested Megatron, and it was very probable that was the case, then Megatron would plan a means of getting whatever Centurion wanted as well as killing the rival Decepticon. Why Centurion was out in some forest was unknown to Megatron but he was sure that he would be getting some answers quite soon, hopefully before the Autobots decided to interrupt his mission here.

It seemed that since their failure at activating the energon harvester had all but dashed their hopes of saving their race. Without energon they could not raise more protoforms and build the unstoppable army the Fallen had been hoping to build. In fact, it seemed that there were no more energon harvesters anywhere Megatron knew about hence why he had decided to simply bide his time and wait for something to turn up. There was no use in coming down to Earth without a reason, especially since the Autobots and their human allies seemed so determine to be rid of the Decepticons from the planet.

If Centurion had found something…something capable of saving their race then maybe all hopes weren't dashed after all. It was a wild guess, assuming that Centurion knew something Megatron didn't but there must have been a good reason as to why he was on this planet and why he was currently out here, in the middle of some Earth forest. According to the human's global network, this area was in the province of Groningen in a country known as the Netherlands (or Holland, depending on what source one was reading). The names meant nothing to Megatron: he simply wanted to find Centurion and get this all over with.

There was movement to his left and Megatron turned his head, watching as Starscream emerged from the forest. Starscream approached, looking like his usual serious self while occasionally glancing around at the surrounding forest. Starscream hadn't needed to arrive via drop-pod: rather, he had simply flown here in his vehicle mode.

As well as Starscream there were several other Decepticons that had come to Earth with them to provide backup and keep the humans and Autobots distracted long enough so Megatron could find Centurion with minimal hassle. These other Decepticons were currently spreading out across the countryside, some headed for the human military encampment and airstrip while others went on to the city the humans called "Groningen". It would be enough of a show of force to prove to the humans and their Autobot allies that the Decepticons were still around and as strong as ever. It would also provide some disguise over Megatron's real reason why he was here.

"He's here," Starscream said simply as he approached, looking up towards the blue but somewhat cloudy sky.

"Who? Centurion?" Megatron couldn't detect anything on his sensors except for much interference and more of the strange energy readings. The interference was enough to disguise Centurion's life-spark readings and effectively camouflage him from being detected.

"No, Breakaway," Starscream added, looking towards Megatron, "I can take care of him, my Lord…just give me the go-ahead."

"You're here to watch my back, Starscream," Megatron said sternly, deciding to crush his subordinate's hopes of ridding himself of the Autobot Breakaway. Megatron didn't want some personal vendetta to get in the way of their mission here.

Starscream looked annoyed but didn't voice any complaints, simply keeping silent. Megatron, satisfied that his subordinate's ego had been maintained, managed another look at their surroundings whilst scanning the surrounding the area. The Autobots and the humans were still on his sensors but they were getting further away…unless it was a trick played on him by the interference he was getting. It was hard to be absolutely sure.

"Where do we go now?" Starscream asked, "I can detect no trace that Centurion was here…save for the energy that he seems to leave behind everywhere he goes. That could mean anything, though: he could still be here or he could have since left…"

"He's around here, I know it," Megatron replied bluntly. That was when the holographic projector at his wrist activated, catching his attention as a small visage of the Decepticon strike team leader appeared

"_We are in position to attack the human airstrip, my Lord,"_ the Decepticon said, _"as well as the city. Do you wish for us to go ahead with these strikes?"_

Megatron didn't hesitate. Besides, it was about time he enacted some payback on these humans for all that they had done to him in the past. First they had treated him as their experiment…and then they had killed him and tried to contain him. It angered him just thinking about all that they had done…the puny insects obviously didn't know their place.

"Go ahead," Megatron replied, "raze that city to the ground. Destroy their military installation. Make sure there are no survivors."

The Decepticon's blue transparent and holographic visage nodded in acknowledgement.

"_Right away, Lord Megatron,"_ the Decepticon replied before the image flickered off.

"Are you sure this is a wise move, my Lord?" Starscream spoke from behind him, Megatron turning around to face him. "You will bring the Autobots straight to our strike force…we could take losses…"

"It is of no matter," Megatron replied bluntly, "those Decepticons were bred to fight for our cause…as well as die for it. They will keep the Autobots and their human allies off of us while we go and find Centurion. It will ensure that none of our enemies get in our way, thus making this whole mission far more…casual."

Starscream simply nodded, deciding that voicing anymore uncertainties wouldn't be too wise a move. Megatron wasn't afraid to punish his subordinates if they annoyed him too much and it was obvious from the Decepticon leader's demeanour that Starscream's complaints were beginning to get on his nerves.

A bird tweeted nearby, enough of a sound to get Megatron's attention. He scanned the tops of the nearby trees, detecting numerous animals but little else. This world was quite different than Cybertron: there was organic life everywhere, as if the planet had been built to support it. It disgusted him to say the least and he had the urge to blast away the surrounding trees but he thought against it. Such a move would only draw attention to him, attention he didn't quite need right now.

According to the maps of the region they had found on the human's global network, there was apparently an abandoned military base nearby. As well as this the humans had set up another military base near an old airfield whilst having locked down the entire region, obviously in an effort to keep Centurion in. It must have been working out for them since Centurion was still in the region; as if he was laying low or simply doing something that required him to remain in the one location. Whatever he was doing he was doing a good job of covering his tracks, leaving behind numerous amounts of the interference causing energy that played havoc with Megatron's sensors.

A brief scan indicated the majority of the interference was coming from a westerly direction so Megatron started through the forest that way, Starscream following a few paces behind.

It wasn't long before they found traces of the residual energy on the ground and nearby foliage, as well as the tracks to go with it. No doubt Centurion had been through here recently, leaving behind numerous amounts of the residual chemical or energy substance; it was hard to class it. Megatron stopped and stuck two of the fingers on his right hand into a small puddle of the gunk, watching with some fascination as it simply ate away at the metal on his fingers. He brushed it off casually onto a nearby tree, letting it eat away at the wood. Whatever this substance was it was highly volatile, igniting at the slightest disturbance. It was also capable of burning through his armour, a fact that only slightly unnerved the Decepticon leader.

If Centurion had managed to harness this substance as some form of weapon then he would make an awfully dangerous opponent. All he would need to do is launch a large amount of this residue at his opponent in order to burn a hole right through them probably killing them in the process. Thus, it was integral to Megatron's plan that he gain his rival's trust otherwise he might be met with a very sticky fate indeed.

"Did you hear that?" Starscream said suddenly, looking up. Megatron followed his gaze, watching as the human fighter jet with the desert brown camouflage pattern flew overhead. There was no doubt that the jet was in fact Breakaway in vehicle mode, something Starscream realized immediately.

"It's Breakaway," Starscream said, watching as the jet disappeared from view. He turned to Megatron, some annoyance crossing his features when he realized that his chance to get rid of the Autobot was dwindling the longer they remained here. He didn't dare defy his leader's orders but he didn't want to let Breakaway get away…not again.

"Don't even think about going after him," Megatron said sternly, feeling like he was talking to an unruly child about what not to do, "our mission is on the ground. Let the Autobot fly around…what difference does it make? Just because he dented your ego a few times in the past doesn't mean you can go ahead and jeopardize my plans on some sort of personal vengeance…"

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, a pair of strong metal arms grabbing his in a headlock. Starscream immediately brought out his cannon, aiming past Megatron and towards the Decepticon that had grabbed him from behind.

Megatron became aware of the shimmering field of energy that flickered on and off upon the Decepticon's form. The parts of the rival Decepticon that touched him were burning him while more of the residual by-product began congealing upon Megatron where the Decepticon was in contact with him. It was certainly a sticky situation he found himself in and he instinctively went for the arms that grabbed him, only to feel his opponent's grip tighten around his head. It was obvious that his opponent was preparing to tear his head right off, something that Megatron wasn't quite willing to let happen.

"Ah, Megatron, at long last we are reunited," the deep, threatening voice that sounded from behind him was enough to certify just who his opponent was. It was Centurion and he sounded as unstable as ever, the madness edging his voice as he spoke.

"And Starscream, the insignificant subordinate," Centurion said mockingly. There was some visible anger on Starscream's metallic features but he didn't say anything, instead keeping his right arm cannon raised and pointed at the rogue Decepticon.

"Having you two in the same place will save me a lot of trouble," Centurion said, continuing to tighten his grip on Megatron's neck. Megatron started thinking of a means of combating the grip his opponent had on him but decided that since he had come here to talk to his rival he would do just that: he would talk and hope it would get Centurion to let go.

"Have you come here to kill me, Megatron?" Centurion asked, the mocking tone still audible in his voice, "because if you have you've done a bad job of going about it. I can snap off your head at a moment's notice…"

"I'm not here to kill you, Centurion," Megatron replied, managing to sound somewhat convincing. It was a half-truth: Megatron was planning to kill his rival; he just needed to get some information off of him first.

There was a noticeable relaxation of Centurion's grip on Megatron but it was only slight. Obviously Centurion had been through his fair share of betrayals and double-crosses and knew better than to simply take a rival Decepticon's word for it.

"Really, Megatron, you must take me for a fool," Centurion said. He looked towards Starscream whilst keeping Megatron between him and the subordinate. Starscream still had his arm cannon pointed towards Centurion although there was some uncertainty evident on his metallic features.

"Go ahead Starscream," Centurion said, "shoot your master. That way you can serve under me and we can help usher in a new era of Decepticon supremacy…"

Megatron was already in the process of figuring his way out of Centurion's grip. He noticed the careful thought on Starscream's features, some uncertainty in his subordinate's gaze as he kept his aim fixed on Centurion. There was a good chance that if he fired he would hit Megatron instead, something that Centurion had obviously made sure would happen.

"Starscream will serve under you," Megatron said, deciding to get straight to why he was here, "as will I."

Centurion's grip on Megatron relaxed, allowing him to wriggle free of his rival's grasp. Megatron immediately turned around to face his rival, being met with an imposing figure about the same height as him but with the features of a human armoured vehicle taking up some of his form. The shimmering field of energy upon his figure flickered on and off, as if the power source feeding it was struggling to keep itself running. In all, Centurion looked rather beaten up but he still had that signature madness in his eyes.

Within seconds Centurion had brought out the sword concealed in his right arm and he pressed the blade against Megatron's neck, thus ensuring that his rival was unable to make any moves against him. Starscream lowered his aim, preferring to simply stand back and watch the two rivals deal with each other rather than intervene. Besides, Starscream knew that there was a good chance one of them would kill the other and whoever was left he would end up serving anyway. At least, that would be the case until he decided to try and kill them in an effort to install himself as leader of the Decepticons.

"And you think I'm stupid enough to believe that, Megatron?" Centurion asked, this being more of a rhetorical question than one Megatron should answer. He glared at his rival with some noticeable dislike and distrust but he still didn't follow through with the finishing blow he could have easily delivered then and there. Megatron knew this and so kept still, knowing that if he so much as took a step back Centurion would decapitate him with the razor sharp sword pressing against his neck.

"I speak the truth," Megatron said, although it was only a half-truth. "I detected your return and I knew you must have had a very good reason to be on Earth…"

"A _good _reason?!" Centurion raised his vice suddenly and abruptly, laughing like a madman. It was unnerving to see a Decepticon in this state of mind but Megatron simply kept a straight face, preferring to let Centurion talk it out. "You are mistaken: I have the _greatest_ and most IMPORTANT of all reasons to be on this insignificant world populated with insects…I would have succeeded in my original plans as well if it weren't for that Autobot, Deadeye…"

This was a name that Megatron recognized but only slightly. There had been an Autobot called Deadeye once, a relatively young one that had disappeared some time ago and never heard from again. Obviously Centurion was in on that disappearance, however that worked out.

"Deadeye?" Megatron wanted to learn more.

"Yes…Deadeye is Optimus Prime's son," Centurion explained, the dislike of these two evident in the way he spoke their names, "didn't you know that your nemesis had a son, Megatron? Because I certainly knew."

Megatron found himself intrigued in this premise: if he had known that Optimus Prime had had a son then he would have tried to use this against his enemy. Using someone's own family against them was a good way to incite their downfall, this much was obvious.

"I did not know that he was the Prime's son," Megatron replied, "but I have heard of him. I also learnt that he disappeared without a trace some time ago…I don't suppose you had anything to do with this?"  
Centurion seemed to think about this for a moment, lowering the sword he had pressed against Megatron's neck. Megatron was then allowed to relax a little, having obviously gained enough of his former rival's trust to be allowed such a luxury.

"I came to this world and Deadeye was accidentally brought with me," Centurion said, "some might think that this was fate playing its hand. He managed to interfere quite directly with my plans…It seems like only yesterday when I last encountered him while in fact it has been many years…"

Megatron was a bit confused as to just what Centurion meant by all of this but he kept listening, curious to hear what else his rival had to say. Centurion paused for a moment, thinking about what had happened that had brought him here.

"Both of us were caught in a time displacement field caused by a device I had fashioned, a device capable of imbuing me with considerable power and abilities that I had only begun to harness. The shockwave that followed our abrupt release from the field knocked us both out…" He paused to think again, struggling to remember all of this clearly. "As far as I know, Deadeye was killed. I woke up only yesterday, a captive of the humans…"

_Optimus Prime's son dead? A pity…_Megatron had been looking forward to getting a hold of the Prime's son and using him against his nemesis. In fact, the thought occurred to him: since he and Optimus were brothers, then Optimus having a son would mean that he was a…uncle. A certainly interesting development but one he cared little about.

The mention of a device capable of imbuing one with great power was another thing that intrigued Megatron. No doubt that this was what had given Centurion the shimmering energy field that enveloped his figure, flickering on and off as the reserve power supplies dwindled. Perhaps this was what he was looking for, although it still didn't explain why he had come to Earth.

"Firstly, I will find my device," Centurion said, more to himself than either Megatron or Starscream. He looked towards Megatron, the equivalent of a smile crossing his metallic features. His red eyes glowed brightly, as if fuelled by that inner madness that Megatron knew was within.

"Do you know what it's like to be trapped in the void outside of all dimensions?" Centurion asked. The question struck Megatron as odd but it did in fact stir up what he knew of the Fallen: the Fallen had spent a long time imprisoned in the void, or the 'Omniverse' as it was properly known. It was the space between the infinite amount of alternate realities that existed, flowing with an incredible energy that Centurion had no doubt worked out a way to harness for his benefit.

"Uh…no…" Megatron managed to reply, keeping a straight face as Centurion continued.

"I came face-to-face with the Chaos Bringer himself," Centurion said, his voice awestruck, "He told me of a means to bring Him into our reality. He imbued me with a device capable of harnessing the divine energy…AND I LOST IT! I LOST THE DIVINE DEVICE!" Centurion shouted angrily, swinging his sword towards a nearby tree. It cleaved right through the trunk, the section above the cut toppling over.

Megatron had stepped back, more as a precaution against this obviously insane Decepticon than anything else. He was trying to work out just what Centurion was talking about…He had heard of some sort of "Chaos Bringer" before and he knew that the Fallen had been a pupil of the "Chaos Bringer." There were also legends about this figure, dating back millions of years. Apparently he had been banished to some sort of "netherworld", probably the very "void" Centurion was claiming to have visited.

"I must find it," Centurion said simply, "as well as the object required to operate the portal…"

"Portal?" Megatron was most definitely interested to hear what else Centurion had to add to these absurd claims. For as crazy as they sounded, something told Megatron that he was onto something.

"The insects…the humans…it is part of their mythology. They call it the 'Spear of Destiny', among other names…" Centurion trailed off, thinking about all that he had said.

"What? The portal?"

"No, you fool!" Centurion exclaimed, somewhat surprised at Megatron's sheer lack of knowledge about all of this, "the device needed to activate the portal is called the 'Spear of Destiny'. It is an object millions of years old…And I know where it is.

"And that's where you come in, Megatron," Centurion said, his voice taking on a more menacing tone. Megatron could see that he had done enough to gain his rival's trust for now but there was still much to be explained.

Megatron would never have even considered that allowing some sort of "Chaos Bringer" into their universe via a portal would have been a wise idea. However, the two devices that Centurion had mentioned…the so-called "Divine Device" and the Spear of Destiny were two items that Megatron would have been quite happy to get hold of.

"Since you seem so willing to help me you will find the Divine Device," Centurion said, "why that particular item, you ask? Why, it's the only one I can trust you with because only _I_ can operate it. Unicron designed it for my use only."

"Unicron?" Megatron had heard this name before. The Fallen often spoke of the one named "Unicron" who was in fact the "Chaos Bringer" that Centurion had mentioned. Funnily enough, it was beginning to all make sense now. All of these allusions to some sort of "Chaos Bringer" named Unicron…it was obvious Centurion had been enraptured by this figure and was willing to allow Unicron to enter this universe because of this. Megatron, on the other hand, wasn't so willing.

"Yes, that is His name," Centurion replied, "and by swearing your loyalty to me you swear your loyalty to Him. Are you willing to do that? Are you willing to swear an oath in His name?"

Megatron wasn't about to swear anything. Instead, he was curious as to these two items, one of which Centurion wanted him to find. He decided that shifting the topic of conversation away from this Unicron figure would be a wise move.

"I want to know more about this 'Divine Device', if I am to find it," Megatron said.

"Only I can operate the Divine Device," Centurion said, managing a menacing smile, "and I know that you're planning to figure out a way around that but unfortunately He ensured that only I, His one true disciple, would have been able to operate such a device. That is why I can entrust you with searching for it.

"In the meantime, I will have to head off in order to find the Spear," Centurion said. He held out a hand and opened it, revealing that he was clutching a small data crystal. Obviously it was intended for Megatron who took it with some uncertainty, still unsure of what he was getting himself into. He wasn't too keen on working for his insane rival but if it meant that he might get hold of powerful artefacts then he would undoubtedly have to pretend to enjoy his new position under Centurion.

"Upon that data crystal is the information you will need in order to locate the Divine Device," Centurion said, "when you have it, report straight back to me."

Megatron tucked the crystal away with the intent of sifting through the information stored upon it later on. He looked at Centurion who had fallen silent, as if contemplating all that had been said and the situation they were in.

Megatron turned around to face Starscream, nodding towards his subordinate in order to confirm their success here. They had succeeded in gaining an entrance into Centurion's somewhat absurd plans although it was unknown if there was any truth in what Centurion was planning. He was insane, most likely a side effect from the time he had spent in the "void", otherwise known as the "Omniverse".

"Megatron!" Centurion exclaimed suddenly, getting the attention of both Megatron and Starscream.

"The enemy approaches!" Centurion warned whilst removing his signature spear weapon from where he had concealed it within his side. Megatron could see that Centurion was serious about this and so brought out his arm cannons, looking around at the surrounding forest. His sensors could detect nothing, instead wracked with the interference that Centurion seemed to be emitting. However, he could hear movement and so trained his weapons in the direction of the sounds.

Thoughts about the task he had been given ran through his mind as well as speculations on just what Centurion expected to gain from allowing Unicron entrance to this universe. It was obvious that a being with the title of "Chaos Bringer" didn't spell good news for most living things but Megatron knew he would have to play along with Centurion's scheme for now, if only it meant getting closer to the so-called "Spear of Destiny".

Megatron made sure to clear his mind of all nagging thoughts as the enemy apparently drew near. He saw movement over to their right and opened fire, both arm cannons thundering throughout the forest. Birds in nearby trees fluttered away hurriedly, twittering in alarm. The ground vibrated from the barking cannons as Megatron effectively levelled several trees with both of his energy cannons.

That's when a familiar and tall figure came storming out of the trees ahead, weapons drawn as he charged. It was Optimus Prime and he was looking as determined as ever as he charged for Megatron, both of his cannons out and firing. He was followed by three other Autobots, each going for their own target.

Megatron continued firing, as determined as ever to rid himself of these enemies. Centurion went into a flurry of movement to his right, charging for the big Autobot Ironhide. Starscream opened fire at the blue Autobot, Jolt, as he came charging towards him.

In all, a massive firefight had erupted and it wasn't helped by the arrival of several humans who went onto open fire with their pathetic firearms. Megatron was set upon by Optimus Prime, something he had grown somewhat accustomed to in past years. He hurriedly put away his cannons and brought out his right arm's sword, deflecting a blow from Optimus as the two met face-to-face.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Megatron said simply. Optimus didn't reply, instead proceeding to send another few blows his way. Within seconds the pair were in an all-out duel, the rest of the battle that was raging around them being blocked from their senses as they concentrated on defeating one another.

Megatron hadn't been in a good fight for a while so he would make sure to get the most out of this one. If he could get the Prime out of his way now then finding the Divine Device without interference from the Autobots would be quite possible.


	19. First Wave

**First Wave  
**Somewhere in the province of Groningen, Holland (the Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

Seated in his office, General Izaac Rutgers had been forced to simply wait around until the Americans with their exotic vehicles came back and assured him that the problem within the lockdown zone had been dealt with. The General wasn't at all sure just what the problem was except that maybe there was some sort of experimental military weapon or attack drone on the loose and that he had been told to stay back and let the Americans deal with it.

He had never liked Americans and had encountered them in the past, always disliking the way they seemed to think that they could barge into another country and boss everyone there around. Today had been no exception, although these Americans had had the proper authorization from the government to take over the operation. Now the General was forced to sit back and let some cocky Americans into the lockdown zone in an effort to get rid of whatever it was that was on the loose there. It annoyed him that he was no longer in the position to do anything about it, the authorization papers that had been given to him by the Americans stating that neither he nor any of his soldiers were to interfere.

In order to pass the time away General Rutgers had been sitting around in the command tent, smoking cigars and rifling through paperwork. With all military operations like this there would always be a lot of paperwork and he was the one stuck filling it out. The more casualties they took the more paperwork to fill out after the action died down, hence Rutgers was seizing his chance to do it all now rather than leave it for a later time when he probably wouldn't be bothered to do it.

The Americans that had come here were a strange bunch. They wore unmarked uniforms that only bore the insignia of their rank and little else. There was no indication of just what branch of the military they worked for, fuelling Rutgers' speculation that they were some secretive group. These Americans had brought along several exotic vehicles, as if they had wanted to drive into battle in style. It was odd, to say the least but Rutgers wasn't here to speculate about it. He was here to do some paperwork, something he was quite willing to do since little else was happening.

The Dutch Captain who was seated at the radio in the corner suddenly looked up, his face a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. He turned to look towards the General whilst listening to what was coming through his headset.

"Uh, sir…" The Captain certainly sounded unsure of what he was hearing. His uneasiness caught the General's attention and he stood up, stepping over to the Captain and the radio.

General Rutgers puffed gently on a cigar as he approached the Captain, frowning at what could possibly be going on to elicit a reaction from the Captain like this.

"What is it, Captain?" Rutgers asked, peering towards the radio. One of the readouts indicated that they were on some sort of high frequency which was a tad peculiar. Perhaps someone unexpected was calling by?

"I just intercepted this signal which is being broadcast on some of the higher frequencies," the Captain said, taking off the headset and handing it to the General, "I don't know what to make of it."

General Rutgers frowned as he took the headset, putting one earpiece to an ear and listening. Past the hiss of static he could make out the quite deep sounding voice of something, he wasn't sure what. It was speaking in a garbled sounding tongue, as if this were some strange language he had never heard before. The message repeated, again and again every twenty or so seconds.

"I triangulated it, sir," the Captain said, revealing the map he had laid out in front of him. He pointed to a certain part which he had marked with pen, a part of the map that represented a region within the lockdown zone.

"It's coming from the lockdown zone, a mile to the east of the abandoned military base," the Captain continued, "and judging by the sophistication of the signal, I would say it's heading out into space at a fast pace, faster than any sort of signal we could send. Don't ask me why, but it is…"

_Fascinating,_ Rutgers thought absently, removing the headset. He handed it back to the Captain, trying to work out what this meant. Whatever was on the loose out there it was sending a signal, one that repeated itself over and over again as well as heading out into space.

Rutgers wasn't sure what to think of this development, deciding that if those Americans currently on the prowl in the lockdown zone were doing their job they would find out what was causing the signal. Of course, he was curious about it as well and would have liked nothing more than to send some soldiers into the lockdown zone to find out for himself rather than let the Americans have all the fun.

While Rutgers was thinking this over the entrance flap of the tent opened and a flustered looking Corporal raced inside, taking a moment to catch his breath before he began to speak. Rutgers turned to look at him, wondering what could possibly be the matter now.

"Corporal, what is it?" Rutgers asked, able to tell it was urgent from the sheer fact that the Corporal had run here.

"Our radar at the airstrip…it's detected…well…" The Corporal struggled to catch his breath still, having obviously just heard of the news. "I just took a call from the radar controllers at the airstrip's control tower. They say there are at least a dozen objects travelling faster than most jets on a heading for the lockdown zone, sir."

"Any idea on what they are?" Rutgers asked. What the hell could be going on now? And what the hell were these 'objects'? It occurred to him that this whole operation was slowly getting out of hand, starting with the arrival of the Americans and now culminating in this.

"They look to be meteorites sir," the Corporal said. Rutgers looked at him in disbelief but the Corporal continued, elaborating on the suggestion. "However, they seem to be slowing down as they near us, as if they're coming in for a landing…"

Rutgers immediately stepped over to the table in the centre of the room, picking up the red phone that was on there. He put the phone to his ear and dialled the appropriate number, glancing over at the Captain at the radio and telling him to send out the general alert call.

Finally a familiar voice came onto the line: the head of the Dutch airbase that had already sent planes their way in an effort to aid this operation. He sounded annoyed, as if he had been interrupted. Rutgers decided against wasting time and instead got straight to the point.

"Did you dispatch anymore planes to my region?" Rutgers asked, wanting to be sure, "because we've got about twelve of them on long range radar…"

"_No General, I haven't sent anymore planes your way for the last half hour,"_ the voice on the other end of the line replied, _"so the ones you've detected can't be from me…"_

Rutgers simply hung up the phone then and there, his heart-rate increasing. Whatever those incoming objects were they probably weren't good news, he could tell that much. He turned to look at the flustered Corporal again.

"How long until they arrive?" Rutgers asked, able to hear the alarm siren echoing throughout the compound outside. Soldiers mobilized and vehicles began to speed by, heading for their appropriate battle-stations. Rutgers was hoping it was all just a false alarm but something told him otherwise.

"Any moment now, sir," the Corporal replied, his voice unsteady.

Rutgers left the tent at that moment, heading outside. The soldiers within the compound were running around, preparing for a defensive action. Rifles were being handed out to those who were currently unarmed while mounted machine guns were set up at the perimeters. A Jeep mounted with a rocket launcher parked itself nearby, one of the soldiers mounting the launcher. Alarms sounded all throughout the compound as the soldiers readied themselves for an imminent attack.

Rutgers noticed that a number of the soldiers were gazing skyward in the direction behind him. He turned around and looked that way as well, noticing the several pinpoint of orange-yellow light that were visible against the blue sky. There was a perfect line of them until, quite abruptly, about six of them broke off and went hurtling overhead towards a region deeper within the lockdown zone.

They certainly looked like meteorites, leaving behind them flaming and smoking trails that stained the sky minutes afterwards. The remaining six "meteorites" then broke into two groups of three, one group heading for the nearby airstrip while the other three came hurtling straight for the military camp.

Rutgers instinctively hit the dirt as the flaming streaks shot overhead, the ground rumbling beneath him as they passed over. Heat washed over him and the command tent nearby caught fire, the Captain and the Corporal running out as it collapsed behind them. Seconds later, three deafening explosions rang out across the compound and flames erupted on all sides, followed by thick plumes of smoke and a violently shaking ground.

Rutgers looked up, catching a glimpse of the fireball that erupted from some distance up ahead. A Jeep that had been parked too close to the impact zone was sent flying, crashing down a few metres near him and throwing out a dead Dutch soldier when it landed. Flames licked at the ground at the edges of the crater while nearby soldiers recovered from the shock of the impact, rifles being aimed towards the crater as they slowly approached.

Smoke obscured their view of what was inside the crater, although it was obvious that there was movement within. Rutgers slowly rose to his feet, aware that the other two "meteorites" had also landed in much the same fashion. A nearby set of tents had been obliterated in one impact, pieces of burnt fabric and metal struts having been thrown across the compound. Around him the whole scene was one of devastation as flames ate away at tents and a nearby truck exploded due to a leak in its fuel tank. The explosion was enough to make the General stumble backwards in surprise but he quickly recovered, instead turning his attention to the smoking crater up ahead.

That's when he saw it: the tall, black and grey metal monstrosity that emerged from the smoke. It was at least thirty feet tall with glowing red eyes while it had the same basic shape as a human: two legs, two arms, a head and a bulky looking torso. One arm was extended and what appeared to be a large cannon uncompacted itself from its forearm, the end of the cannon glowing a bright blue as if fuelled by energy. The soldiers standing near the crater immediately began to back away, their rifles firing and sending yellow streaks of tracer fire lancing through the air. The bullets harmlessly pinged off of the metal beast as it proceeded to aim its arm cannon towards the nearest group of Dutch soldiers.

The cannon fired, a blue blast of shimmering energy shooting out and slamming into the ground in the middle of a group of half a dozen soldiers. A wave of blue-white energy erupted forth, vaporizing the soldiers and destroying the tent further behind them. Rutgers dived to the ground again, his heart beating wildly in his chest s he attempted t gather his senses.

_My God, _he thought, _what the hell is that?_

He looked around, noticing that there were another two of the robots in other parts of the compound. Soldiers had taken up firing positions as they laced rifle fire onto the enemies but their weapons had little effect, the bullets pinging harmlessly off of the armour upon the tall and intimidating robots.

It occurred to the General that these may have been more of the type of enemy that had been contained within the lockdown zone although he couldn't be sure. Why they were attacking here and now was beyond him but he knew that if he stayed here any longer he was as good as dead. They needed support and so he rose to his feet, running for the nearest tent.

The nearby Jeep with the rocket launcher mounted upon it was blown away as he ran past, hit with a missile launched from the shoulder-muted launcher on the nearest of the robots. The flaming wreck went flying overhead while the force of the explosion knocked him into the dirt, further ruining his General's uniform. He slowly rose back onto his feet, noticing that his ears were ringing from all of the noises erupting around him. Rifles fired and explosions boomed loudly, a tent off to his left disintegrating into pieces of scorched fabric and broken metal struts. A Dutch soldier came running away from the scene of the fight against the nearest enemy, only for a rocket to slam into the ground near him and toss him aside like a ragdoll. The General ran over to where the soldier landed nearby, picking up his dropped SG 551 rifle. It was obvious such a weapon would have little effect against these new enemies but General Rutgers felt better with a firearm then without one.

To his left the nearest robot strafed chain-gun fire across a row of Dutch soldiers, the high powered rounds shredding the soldiers apart. It seemed to shift its attention towards the General, the chain gun on its left forearm resuming fire. Rounds slammed into the ground near the General, kicking up dirt as he started sprinting for the tent ahead. He managed a dive at the last few metres, just as a rocket went zooming overhead. It slammed into a stack of crates behind him, sending forth a fireball that sent splinters of wood raining down all around.

The General, slightly dazed, got back up and raced into the mostly intact tent. He saw a radio discarded on a table inside while a young Dutch soldier was busy loading a Fuel Air RPG launcher. The sound of a chain-gun firing became audible from outside and several rounds ripped through the fabric of the tent, the Dutch soldier twirling abruptly before crumpling into a dead heap on the floor.

Stepping over his body to get to the radio the General was relieved when he gripped the device in his hands although his joy was short-lived when it was interrupted by several more rounds that tore through the fabric of the tent. He ducked as the table in front of him was torn apart by the high-powered rounds, seconds before a missile impacted the other side of the tent.

The General was thrown backwards as the tent erupted into flame in front of him, singing his eyebrows and scorching his uniform. He still clutched the radio and managed to hold onto it all throughout the explosion. It took him a few seconds to gather his senses and when he did he found that the tent around him had been effectively reduced to a tattered frame of one, the smell of smoke thick in the air. He found that the radio had survived the explosion intact and so he immediately flicked it on, attempting to find the correct frequency as he took cover behind some stacked metal boxes. Up ahead he watched as one of the black and grey metal monstrosities began working its way past, strafing chain-gun fire across fleeing soldiers.

Finally General Rutgers found the correct frequency, trying his best to get his voice heard over the noise of the battle. He had made contact with High Command, barely giving the man on the other end of the signal a chance to say anything before the General started yelling at him.

"This is General Izaac Rutgers, in charge of the lockdown operation in the Groningen province!" The General shouted, hearing a surprised voice on the other end of the communications line, "The main camp is under attack by several large, robot-like hostiles…"

"_I'm sorry General, but you're going to have to speak up," _the young man on the other end of the line said this annoyingly calmly, since he probably had no idea what was going on here. The General rolled his eyes and started yelling a lot louder.

"HOW'S THAT SOUND?!" He shouted angrily. "I need reinforcements…tanks…planes…THE WHOLE DAMN LOT! You have no idea what's going on here and if my men don't get help soon, we're stuffed!"

"_Uh…I can hear you now, sir," _the young man replied, _"Just…wait a moment…I'll get your request checked out."_

The General found that he had been put on hold. Annoyed, he put the radio on the ground beside him and instead watched as the nearest robot stopped a short distance ahead of him, towering thirty-feet high as it scanned its surroundings. Its features were that of a robotic armoured killing machine, with the evil red eyes to match.

That's when he remembered the Fuel-Air RPG launcher. It was lying amongst some pieces of scorched fabric from the destroyed tent and the General grabbed it, hefting the loaded launcher over his shoulder. Chances were shooting the robot would just piss it off but he decided that maybe it was worth taking that chance. So far the robot and its two friends had killed many of his troops and General Rutgers felt like delivering a little payback.

The General rested the launcher on his shoulder, taking aim down the sights. The Fuel Air RPG was a devastating but bulky weapon, delivering a missile packed with highly combustible fuel that exploded into a wide area. It was capable of levelling a small building if the user's aim was good.

After a moment spent taking careful aim the General fired, the launcher buckling back slightly in his grip. The rocket flew forth, leaving behind it a smoking white contrail as it sped towards the giant killer robot. The impact explosion was fairly small as it slammed into the side of the robot, spraying a cloud of white fuel outwards from the blast. The robot stumbled slightly, turning around to face the one who had fired it.

The General's heart skipped a beat when he saw the robot raise the chain gun at its left forearm. However, the robot was suddenly knocked aside by the massive fireball that erupted at its back, the cloud of fuel igniting and creating a near blinding flash of flame. The General stumbled backwards in surprise but managed to keep watch as one arm of the robot was blown to pieces, the robot itself being sent flying into the ground. Flames licked at its back while the stench of burning fuel met the General's nostrils. Some of the nearby Dutch soldiers cheered when they saw the robot fall, a smoking chunk blown out of its back.

The General smiled, lowering the Fuel Air RPG launcher. He suddenly felt quite pleased with himself, despite the fact that there were another two of the big bad robots still on the rampage in the compound. Still, what had just occurred implied that these robots weren't unstoppable.

The radio he had left on the ground nearby crackled back into life. The General picked it up, listening to the vice on the other end.

"_Our satellite imagery confirms the attack," _the voice said, _"There are planes on their way. Just sit tight, General."_

Thank God for that.

* * *

Ratchet was the Autobot medic, responsible for the well-being of the other Autobots. He had been stuck with keeping guard at the airstrip however, left with little company save for the two Autobot twins Skids and Mudflap, as well as Chromia and her sister Firestar. The group had remained in their vehicle modes, having patrolled the lockdown perimeter before heading back here.

They had been told to not reveal their robot forms to the many Dutch soldiers and workers who were at the airstrip with them, in order to maintain secrecy and avoid having to incite a cover-up story. Such things were apparently difficult for the humans in NEST to achieve convincingly, although Ratchet didn't see the problem. So what if some of the humans knew their true forms? It would have all been for the greater good, after all. Apparently the humans at NEST were worried that if other nations discovered the existence of the Autobots, there would be a back-lash against the United States for having kept such a secret. Politics had never been Ratchet's strongpoint: he was the medic after all; his position in the Autobots was to ensure the others survived their injuries.

Currently he and the rest of the group were parked near a hangar on the airstrip while several NEST soldiers milled around, unpacking military equipment as they prepared for the potential arrival of a dead (or alive) Decepticon. So far none of them, not even the Autobots, knew the true extent of what was happening within the lockdown zone. Lennox had taken only a few of their number, having figured that a single Decepticon wouldn't be much trouble for four Autobots and several humans. Besides, if Ratchet was needed he would be able to get into the lockdown zone within minutes just as long as he floored the accelerator.

He was brought out of his own thoughts when he became aware of much shouting from some of the humans. At first he thought it was just because another plane was coming into land and they were clearing the tarmac runaway but this assumption was quickly disproved. This happened when one of the NEST humans ahead of him pointed skywards and immediately Ratchet adjusted his sensors in that direction.

He saw about a dozen pinpoints of light, all of which gradually extended into flaming meteorite-like streaks. Six of them went flying into the lockdown zone while three of them headed for the nearby military compound. The other three came straight for the airstrip.

Ratchet detected that each was a Decepticon drop-pod and immediately he was out of his vehicle mode, revealing his robot mode in all its glory. In a situation like this a disguise was somewhat unnecessary, especially when it restricted his combat abilities.

The other Autobots followed suit, Skids and Mudflap standing near him brimming with excitement.

"Alright, some action!" Skids exclaimed.

"Finally!" Mudflap added.

The Dutch soldiers milling around the airstrip began to mobilize as the flaming drop-pods slammed into different parts of the compound. One of the drop-pods came crashing into a parked cargo jet on the runway, the jet exploding into a fireball. Parts of it went raining down upon the ground nearby while the nearby humans began to sensibly run. Another drop-pod slammed into the nearest hangar, fire erupting forth and sheets of metal raining down around the Autobots. The NEST soldiers nearby began to ready their weapons as the final drop-pod crashed into a hangar across the runway, the ensuing explosion knocking aside a few Dutch soldiers.

Ratchet brought out both of his arm cannons while Chromia and Firestar started zooming around the left flank. Airstrip workers came running out of the partially destroyed hangar ahead, yelling in terror as a standard Decepticon soldier stepped out of the crater within the hangar. It stood at least thirty feet tall, with black and grey armour plating along with a pair of malevolent red eyes. They were standard Decepticon fodder but were certainly mean enough opponents.

By now the Dutch military personnel at the airstrip were mobilizing, mounted guns being set up and soldiers approaching the other two craters. It was obvious these Dutch soldiers had no idea about what they were up against, although this was understandable. Ratchet decided that getting rid of these Decepticons before they caused havoc amongst the human defences would be better: for one thing he felt guilty when humans were killed and for another he was somewhat itching for some action, as were the other Autobots.

Without hesitation Ratchet brought up his arm cannons and began firing, racing to the side as he pummelled the Decepticon ahead with blast after blast. The Decepticon stumbled back, trying to recover from the volley of fire but was quickly shot upon by Skids and Mudflap who had both brought out their cannons as well. The three Autobots kept laying down the fire, until Ratchet's cannons overheated from their continuous use. He ducked behind some nearby metal containers, the Decepticon's right forearm chain-gun opening fire in his direction. Rounds slammed into the metal while one managed to catch Ratchet in the left shoulder as he ran behind cover, the Autobot grunting but otherwise ignoring the sting of the bullet.

Skids and Mudflap finished off the Decepticon with a few well aimed shots to its head, their combined fire blowing a big chunk out of the foe's face. The Decepticon fell backwards, landing on a parked SUV which was crushed underneath its weight.

The trio of Autobots had little time to revel in this small victory since the other Decepticon, this one emerging from the crater in the tarmac airstrip, came charging towards them with both energy cannons firing. By now there were Dutch soldiers standing near it, firing their rifles with little effect against the Decepticon's armour. The disgruntled Decepticon simply blasted a few groups of humans, vaporizing them with his energy cannons. His attention was focused on the three Autobots up ahead, managing to bring up one energy cannon in order to fire at his robotic enemies.

Ratchet side-stepped the shots that came his way, raising his cannons in return. However, Skids who was standing just off to his left was hit square in the chest with one of the energy blasts, being blown backwards a short distance before coming to rest on the ground. Mudflap shouted and raced over to his brother's side, leaving Ratchet to deal with the oncoming Decepticon.

A Dutch Jeep with a rocket launcher mounted on the rear sped to a halt nearby, the soldier manning the launcher swivelling it in the Autobot's direction. Ratchet shouted at the human, realizing that they were mistaking him for the enemy.

"NOT ME!" Ratchet shouted, pointing towards the Decepticon up ahead, "shoot him! _Him!_"

The human seemed to get the message, swivelling the launcher around and taking aim at the Decepticon up ahead. He fired a rocket which zoomed through the air, slamming into the chest of the Decepticon and causing him to stumble backwards momentarily. Ratchet brought up his right arm cannon and blasted the Decepticon a few times for good measure, taking careful aim and blowing away the Decepticon's left arm. The Decepticon stumbled, surprised, only for another rocket to slam into its face. The Decepticon fell down dead, brought down by the apparently "inferior" human weaponry.

"Ratchet! Skids needs help!" Mudflap shouted from somewhere behind him but the Autobot medic was on the lookout for the third Decepticon. It was somewhat of a relief to see the third Decepticon be set upon by both Chromia and her sister Firestar, the two smaller Autobots slashing into his legs with their swords. The Decepticon fell, only for the pair of Autobots to get started right on slashing their swords into his torso. They seemed to have that Decepticon taken care of, thus allowing Ratchet to shift his attention towards the wounded Skids.

Skids lay on his back, a smoking hole blown in the right part of his chest. Ratchet raced over whilst retracting his arm cannons, sensing that this particular skirmish was over. Skids was still alive and he managed a mostly weak smile on his metal features while his brother held him in a sitting position.

"Damn, that hurts…" Skids said weakly. He seemed somewhat surprised at this development, as if he hadn't been expecting to get shot. The first wound one received in battle was always the most surprising.

Ratchet took a quick scan of the young Autobot's chest wound, figuring that Skids would survive. He just needed to be patched up, something that Ratchet went on to do as Chromia and Firestar returned. They watched as Ratchet set to work on repairing Skids, applying a few replacement panels and a repairing agent that would accelerate the regeneration of the damaged section.

Ratchet looked around, noticing that a number of the Dutch soldiers had grouped nearby and were watching the Autobots closely. The NEST soldiers were telling them to go away but this did little to perturb the curious Dutch soldiers who simply remained standing and watching the Autobots. Most of the soldiers were still trying to figure out what had happened in the battle that had just occurred while others were departing for the nearby compound, having received word that the compound was under attack.

Via a transmission, Breakaway's voice broke Ratchet's concentration. It was a voice only transmission since holographic ones took time to set up, indicating that the airborne Autobot was in a hurry.

"_Ratchet, are things alright down there?" _Breakaway sounded concerned. Ratchet stood up, having finished up with fixing up Skids. The young Autobot was still a bit too weak too do much else other than sit where he was but he did manage a grateful look towards Ratchet.

"Yes, things are fine down here," Ratchet replied. He still didn't trust Breakaway, even if the fellow Autobot was trying to be helpful. There was something about Breakaway that he didn't like; he just couldn't work out what.

"_I can't get a fix on where Optimus and the others are since there's still a lot of interference within the lockdown zone,"_ Breakaway said, _"but I have detected another pair of Decepticons over at the human compound and another two headed for the city. You might want to take care of them…"_

Ratchet had a feeling that the day wasn't quite over yet. Breakaway would stay airborne, keeping watch from up high. This much was obvious, although it did imply that Breakaway was avoiding the fighting. Of course, this was just a guess on Ratchet's part and might have been far from the truth.

"And what are you going to do, Breakaway?" Ratchet asked, unable to keep the doubt from his voice. He didn't quite like Breakaway, regardless of what the others said about him.

"_I'm going to keep watch from up here," _Breakaway replied. This was unsurprising but Ratchet kept this thought to himself. _"I'll see if I can find Optimus. The interference out here is making it hard to use my longer range scanners…"_

"Understood," Ratchet replied. The communications link ended and Ratchet was left still trying to place some trust in Breakaway. In front of him Skids was slowly rising to his feet, somewhat unsteadily but looking well and alive.

"Let's move out," Ratchet ordered. All of this action after about a year of being left on Earth without anything to do seemed to have surprised the others, although they had been trained to be ready for anything. Even so, Ratchet could see that the events of today had been totally unexpected…in everyone's opinion.


	20. Confrontation with Centurion

**Confrontation with Centurion  
**Somewhere in the province of Groningen, Holland (the Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

It had been a fair while since Optimus Prime had last encountered Megatron. The last time had been in Egypt where Optimus had been powered up with parts from the now deceased Decepticon mercenary Jetfire and as a result Optimus had had little trouble in defeating Megatron, having sliced one of the Decepticon leader's arms right off. Now the pair had met again and this time they were more evenly matched although they were both quite determined to get rid of the other.

Optimus, Sideswipe, Jolt and Ironhide had apparently interrupted a conversation taking place between Megatron, Starscream and Centurion. Optimus cared little for whatever the conversation had been about, realizing that with three of their main enemies here in the one location they could finally be rid of them for good. It was somewhat surprising to see Centurion here, even though Optimus had been quite certain that the Decepticon had returned due to the residual energy he left everywhere he went.

The four Autobots were followed by Major Lennox, Sergeant Epps, Captain Graham and a few others of the NEST soldiers. They all stopped at the tree-line, raising their rifles and firing on the three Decepticons up ahead. Of course, the small arms fire had little effect and only angered the already mentally unstable Centurion who brought out a long silver spear and proceeded to defend himself against the combined forces of Ironhide and Sideswipe.

Optimus put away his cannons, bringing out the sword from his right arm as he set onto Megatron. Megatron brought his sword up and deflected the first blow, attempting to follow through with a parry but was blocked by Optimus. The two engaged in a sword duel, ignoring the other fighting that was going on around them as they became engrossed in fighting each other.

Jolt had set upon Starscream, wrapping both of his electric whips around the Decepticon and sending painful charges of electricity flowing through him. Starscream managed a mechanical sounding growl, bringing out his sword and cutting through both whips. He lunged for the surprised looking Jolt, tackling him to the ground before bringing the sword down. However, Jolt managed to roll away from the glistening silver blade as it struck the ground where his head had been only seconds before.

Jolt pushed Starscream off of him, jumping back up onto his feet as he brought out his right arm sword. It was charged with electricity which caused it to glow somewhat brightly, capable of cutting through almost anything and send electricity coursing through his opponent at the same time. Starscream lunged for him again but Jolt swung with his sword, knocking the Decepticon back a few paces from the deflected blow. Jolt seized his chance and stepped towards the momentarily stunned Decepticon, a backhand swing of his sword striking Starscream across the front.

Ironhide and Sideswipe had set upon the large and imposing Centurion. Sideswipe was more than eager to get in close with both of his swords, managing to strike Centurion across the front. Immediately the shimmering field of energy that covered Centurion burned into the metal of the sword that had struck him, causing Sideswipe to stumble backwards in both pain and surprise. Ironhide brought out his sword, clutching it in his right hand as he swung it towards Centurion, the blade slicing through the air but little else as Centurion ducked underneath it. The Decepticon brought up his spear, jumping towards Ironhide in an effort to impale the Autobot with it. Ironhide side-stepped this attack, bringing his sword around and striking Centurion in the back as the Decepticon ran past him a few paces.

Immediately Ironhide brought back the sword, noticing that the energy that rippled across Centurion's frame had eaten away a large chunk of the blade. It occurred to both him and Sideswipe that it would be near impossible to land a blow on Centurion without getting burnt as well, thus a change of tactics was required. Ironhide brought out both of his cannons and took a step backwards as he took aim towards Centurion. Centurion turned around and looked right into both cannons without even a hint that he was fazed by their presence. Instead, he used his spear to knock both cannons aside a split-second before Ironhide fired them. The shots went wide, slamming into some nearby trees and blasting them to pieces.

Lennox, Epps and Graham were standing some distance away, trying to get a clear shot towards the duelling Autobots and Decepticons. Unfortunately this was harder than it sounded, inciting Lennox to try another approach. He called one of the other soldiers over, the heavy weapons expert of the group.

"Sergeant, use a Javelin and hit the big guy," Lennox ordered, pointing towards Centurion. Centurion was having little trouble against both Ironhide and Sideswipe, deflecting the blows of each with his long silver spear. In fact, Ironhide was trying to get far enough to use his cannons safely but was finding this somewhat difficult.

The heavy weapons expert nodded, bringing out the Javelin rocket launcher. It was the type of launcher used more for armour-piercing than for causing big explosions so it would be rightly suited for this particular battle. Lennox could see that Optimus and Megatron was still fighting it out with each other and yet neither of them had really scored any good hits on the other. Jolt and Starscream were lunging at each other and trying to force the other one to the ground, giving their fight more the look of a wrestling match than a sword duel.

The heavy weapons expert, Sergeant Packer, took careful aim with the Javelin launcher at Centurion. He made sure that neither Ironhide nor Sideswipe was in the way when he fired the missile which in turn streaked towards Centurion. It slammed into his chest and the Decepticon stumbled backwards, simply laughing manically in its deep voice when the smoke cleared. The missile had not left a single trace of damage on him. In fact, Centurion seemed to be completely unharmed.

Lennox didn't like this, especially when Centurion brought out a cannon from his left arm. As he deflected sword blows from Sideswipe he managed to take aim and fire, the energy blast slamming into the ground a short distance to Lennox's left. The heavy weapons expert, Sergeant Packer, was reduced to a pile of ash as a wave of blue-white energy lanced forth and consumed him. Lennox was knocked aside by the force of the blast while Epps, Graham and the few other NEST soldiers with them scattered.

Lennox was in the dirt for a moment as he gathered his senses, clutching his rifle as he slowly rose back onto his feet. Centurion's attention had been taken off of the humans as Sideswipe set upon him with both of his swords again, slashing madly at the Decepticon who simply soaked up the blows before knocking Sideswipe aside. Lennox could see the flickering haze of energy that covered Centurion's frame, something that hinted that there was far more to this Decepticon than they had originally thought. Perhaps the haze of energy was some sort of shield, one that soaked up all the shots and sword blows sent his way? Whatever it was it was making killing Centurion a tougher job than it should have been.

Optimus and Megatron continued to send blow after blow each other's way, the other deflecting it before lashing out with their own. It was a duel that wouldn't see a clear victor for a while and had taken both robots a bit further into the forest. Misguided sword strikes cleaved trees in half, Optimus kicking Megatron in the stomach area and sending the Decepticon falling backwards into a cluster of small trees. That broke and fell under his weight while Optimus seized his chance and stepped towards the fallen Megatron, about to bring his sword down when a blast of energy shot through the trees and hit Optimus in the shoulder.

The Autobot leader was knocked aside as the energy blast exploded, momentarily blinding him as it sent burning pain searing through him. Starscream stood nearby with a smoking energy cannon, having intervened to save his leader. Unfortunately Jolt tackled him to the ground a few seconds later and the pair proceeded to continue their somewhat rough fight as they threw each other around in the dirt. Jolt, having once been a nice shiny blue colour, was now covered in mud that gave the impression that he had been slogging it out in the mud for a while. It would have been safe to assume this.

Optimus' vision recovered a few seconds later and he rose to his feet, the sword extended from his right arm at the ready. He sat up, just as Megatron came jumping out of the trees ahead whilst bringing his sword down for what he thought would be the finishing blow. Optimus was faster to react however and deflected the incoming sword, following through with a punch from his left hand which sent Megatron twirling off to the side where he collided and flattened another few trees. Optimus rose to his feet, his eyes darting to where Megatron was slowly getting up as well. It seemed that this fight was far from over so, giving the robotic equivalent of a sigh, Optimus started towards Megatron to continue the duel.

Sideswipe was still in combat with Centurion, his swords burnt and partially melted from the blows he had delivered against Centurion's personal shield. He still went on to deliver a few more even though they caused him more harm than good. His left arm sword was melted clean away when he delivered a strike to Centurion's chest, the Decepticon laughing in a rather tormenting manner as he pushed Sideswipe aside and turned his attention to Ironhide. Still, Sideswipe recovered and went for Centurion again, using his remaining right arm sword to deliver another blow, this time against Centurion's back.

Centurion elbowed Sideswipe with enough force to send the Autobot flying into a nearby set of trees, most of which broke and fell under his weight. Centurion turned around to face Ironhide just in time to receive two energy cannon blasts in the face, the force of both causing him to stumble backwards momentarily. He quickly recovered however, simply laughing off both blasts since his personal shield had protected him. How long this shield would last without the Divine Device attached to his back was unknown but hopefully it would last the whole of this battle.

Centurion lunged forwards with his spear, scraping Ironhide along the side of the stomach area. Ironhide shrugged off this minor injury and swung his sword towards Centurion, the blade scraping along the shield at the Decepticon's neck. The energy shield simply sizzled away the blade, leaving Centurion unharmed and Ironhide without a melee weapon.

Following up on the Autobot's somewhat stunned expression at this occurrence, Centurion followed through with a left hook punch that connected with Ironhide's face and sent him spiralling into the dirt. Before Centurion could impale the annoying Autobot on his spear Sideswipe had set upon him from behind again, his right arm sword being thrust into Centurion's back. The Decepticon's energy shield simply melted the sword away, leaving Sideswipe completely disarmed.

Jolt, meanwhile, was having some trouble with Starscream. Starscream had the Autobot in a headlock and was attempting to press his sword into the Autobot's neck but Jolt was only managing to just stop the sword from edging close enough. The Autobot had lost both of his electric whips in this battle so he was without them, otherwise he could have simply used them to trip Starscream up. Now he was left in this ongoing struggle for supremacy, trying his hardest to stop Starscream's jagged razor-sharp blade from slicing into his neck.

Starscream was blasted away suddenly by a shot from Ironhide, the Decepticon being knocked backwards with a chunk missing from the side of his face. Jolt seized his chance and rose to his feet, turning around with his sword in a ready position. He was about to impale Starscream with it when he felt someone else grab him from behind. It was Megatron and he proceeded to throw the Autobot aside, seconds before Optimus came lunging at him from behind. Megatron turned around and deflected the incoming sword blow and the pair went on to continue their seemingly never-ending duel.

"Lord Megatron, I suggest we leave!" Starscream shouted at Megatron, more as a suggestion than anything else. Jolt was slowly rising to his feet, deciding that he wasn't about to let Starscream get away this time. He jumped up and, with his sword ready to be swung, brought it slicing clean through the air and across the knee joint at Starscream's left leg. Starscream fell and the bottom half of his left leg went flying a short distance, coming to rest on the ground nearby.

Starscream shouted in both surprise and pain, falling to his knees. He looked up and saw Jolt racing towards him. The Decepticon seemed to forget about leaving with Megatron and seconds before Jolt reached him Starscream had changed into his vehicle mode of a human fighter jet. The jet's engines roared and Starscream made sure to speed away, leaving behind him a trail of smoke. Jolt was knocked aside by a blast of air from the engine of the jet-mode Starscream, thrown into the mud for the umpteenth time.

Megatron noticed his subordinate fleeing and decided that it was maybe best he do the same sort of thing. He knocked Optimus aside with a well-placed sword strike to the chest, leaving the Autobot to stumble into a nearby cluster of trees as Megatron reverted into the form of an imposing jet aircraft. This jet was covered with jagged spikes and was certainly not human in design. In fact, Megatron had never been one for disguises: he preferred that his vehicle mode was capable of striking terror into the hearts of his enemies.

Centurion was still in the forest, being fired upon by Lennox and the other humans to little effect. He had knocked Ironhide into the dirt once more but was soon lunged at by Sideswipe again. However, Centurion was ready for him this time and brought his spear up, the weapon going right through Sideswipe's left shoulder. For a second Sideswipe simply looked stunned and Centurion merely made the equivalent of a smile on his metallic features, withdrawing the spear from the Autobot and letting Sideswipe fall to the ground.

"Sideswipe!" Ironhide shouted as he rose to his feet. Centurion ignored Ironhide as he turned around and began running into the forest, leaving the scene of the battle behind.

Ironhide helped the wounded Autobot into a sitting position as Optimus and Jolt approached. Lennox, Epps, Graham and the other two remaining NEST soldiers grouped around the wounded Sideswipe, a look of concern crossing Major Lennox's features. By now Centurion had barged through some trees and disappeared into the forest while both Starscream and Megatron had managed to escape.

"Is he going to be alright?" Lennox said, taking a look at Sideswipe. The spear had punched a hole straight through the Autobot's right shoulder, perhaps an injury that wasn't as bad as it had first seemed. Sideswipe was certainly still alive which was a good sign.

Optimus looked down at Sideswipe, taking a close look at the fellow Autobot's injuries. He then looked in the direction Centurion had gone, trying to decide on what to do next.

"We can get Breakaway to find Centurion…" Epps began, but he was abruptly cut off by Optimus.

"No, that energy shield of his emits far too much interference. It is near impossible to get a fix on his exact location because of this," Optimus said, shaking his head. He turned to Jolt and Ironhide, still considering what they should all do next.

"What about Sideswipe?" Ironhide asked, concern lacing his deep voice. Sideswipe was the one to answer this question, slowly rising to his feet as he did so.

"I'll be fine," he replied somewhat bluntly, "there's no need to treat me like I'm some sort of cripple." No doubt he didn't like all the attention he was getting, as well as the fact that both of his prize swords had been burnt away by Centurion's shield.

Lennox could tell that the Decepticon, Centurion, was a tough one to bring down. He had seemed to have been protected by some sort of energy field, one that had effectively kept him from receiving harm during the fight. This was an indication that Centurion was like no other Decepticon they had been up against before, Lennox thinking that this was probably a bad thing. He could see that Optimus was thinking along the same lines, the Autobot leader's thoughts made evident by the way he had scrunched up his metallic features.

"How come Centurion has this shield yet no one else does?" Lennox asked, figuring that since Optimus had apparently encountered this new Decepticon foe before he might be able to elaborate on some of the things they had found out about him during the fight.

Optimus, for the first time, looked perplexed. He shook his head, only adding to the unease they were all feeling about this situation. They had encountered a near unstoppable enemy that was in league with Megatron: there was no doubting in any of their minds that this wasn't a bad thing.

"You mean, he didn't have that when you encountered him last?" Lennox asked, "The shield, I mean?"

Optimus shook his head again.

"No, he did not have the shield," he replied, sounding somewhat distant. He looked back the way Centurion had went, obviously considering the option of pursuing him.

"There has to be a way to take the bastard down," Epps said, trying to strike some confidence into all of them. "I mean, he's just another Decepticon, right? We can just launch a few missiles his way…blow the crap out of him…"

"Your confidence may be misplaced, Sergeant Epps," Ironhide replied, "You saw what that shield of his could do. Your human weapons did little against him and even my cannons had no effect. I think that by shooting at Centurion we're only going to annoy him and do little other than that."  
Lennox didn't like the sound of all of this but he realized that Ironhide was right. What chance did they have against an enemy that wasn't even harmed by the advanced technology of the Autobots?

"Oh come on!" Epps seemed to realize this as well but he was refusing to believe it. "We'll just call in an air strike…carpet bomb the area. I'm sure we'll get him…"

"As good as an idea that might sound we would be denying ourselves the chance of discovering why he is on Earth," Optimus said, always the one to take these factors into account, "Centurion is a rival of Megatron but it was obvious that the two have chosen to work together. That hints that there may be something they're both interested in which is located here, on this very planet."

"Well, it can't be another energon harvester," Lennox said, remembering why the Decepticons had last bothered coming to Earth, "I mean there was only one of those on Earth, right?"  
Optimus didn't reply right away. He seemed to give this all careful thought for a moment, taking care as he formulated a reply.

"We cannot be certain of his motives," Optimus said, "but we can try and determine them." He looked towards Ironhide and Jolt who were standing nearby, Ironhide helping Sideswipe to remain steady.

"Ironhide…Jolt…You two pursue Centurion, try and corner him. Try and get him to talk and if you cannot return to the human military base. If possible, try and follow him and see where he goes. Meanwhile, I will take Sideswipe to see Ratchet at the airfield…"

"I want to kill that bastard!" Sideswipe exclaimed, somewhat angrily.

Optimus simply shook his head, enough of a gesture to calm down the annoyed and swordless Sideswipe down a little.

"No…You are hurt and as such I will take you to see Ratchet. Besides, both of your swords are gone. I'm sure you would want Ratchet to repair both of them, am I correct?"

Sideswipe glanced down at the melted stumps that had once been his proud and razor sharp swords that had extended from his forearms. He nodded, realizing that he wasn't in much of a state to fight anyone especially an enemy like Centurion.

"And what makes you so sure that he will talk?" Ironhide sounded somewhat doubtful to the sensibility of Optimus' plan but they all knew that they didn't have many other options. Both Starscream and Megatron had managed to get away while Centurion was still around here somewhere: all four Autobots could sense him.

"I have encountered Centurion before," Optimus replied, pausing for a moment as unpleasant memories were stirred up as he said this. "Centurion is the type who likes to talk, even if it is somewhat…unnecessary."

"What about us?" Epps asked, frowning, "you seem to all be forgetting us 'puny' humans…"

Lennox turned to his friend, knowing that they probably weren't needed for this particular task that Optimus had ordered Jolt and Ironhide to carry out. Besides, he doubted that they would be much help against a Decepticon who shrugged off Javelin missiles as if they were mosquito bites.

"We'll head back to the Dutch headquarters," Lennox said, "I'm sure they'll need our help judging from the amount of Decepticons that ended up landing around there."

* * *

Jolt was perhaps the most inexperienced of the Autobots, having seen combat only in Shanghai and Egypt. He was young as well and had arrived to Earth along with Sideswipe, the Twins and the three sisters.

Jolt was the quiet type and often only spoke when spoken to. He preferred to keep to himself at the NEST headquarters on Diego Garcia and as such had somewhat strained friendships with most of the other Autobots. However, when it came to being out in the field on a mission Jolt found it was easy to get along with the others, the camaraderie between them all being quite strong when they were on a mission.

So far this mission had begun as a simple investigative job and had since turned into an all-out battle with the Decepticons. None of the Autobots had been expecting about a dozen or perhaps more Decepticons landing in the region. As well as this, they hadn't been expecting Megatron or Starscream to show up as well.

Jolt had done his best in the fight against Megatron, Starscream and Centurion. Unfortunately, his best probably hadn't been good enough since he had been thoroughly beaten by Starscream and thrown into the muddy ground on numerous occasions by the Decepticon. Jolt's shiny blue and silver figure had been stained with brown smears of mud, giving him a rather battle-worn look. He knew he was inexperienced when it came to combat but he still tried, if only to earn the respect of the others. He didn't say much because he was afraid that they would either ignore him or tell him to be quiet. Apparently he hadn't quite earned his place within the Autobot group here on Earth but he was confident he would earn the respect of the others one day. It would only take time, he could tell as much as this.

Now he was walking a few paces behind the big and burly Ironhide, left to ponder his own thoughts as they followed in the wake of the fleeing Decepticon Centurion. Jolt had personally never even heard of Centurion although the others seemed to have, indicating that he was perhaps to young to know this sort of thing. This only added to his overall feeling of being ill-suited for this sort of work, realizing that he would perhaps have been better off training himself for battle back at Diego Garcia.

Ironhide seemed to be one of the friendlier of the Autobots although he seemed more interested in weaponry than anything else. Jolt felt comfortable being with him, thinking that if they did find Centurion then Ironhide would have no trouble fighting him.

The two Autobots trudged through the forest, knocking a few of the smaller trees over and scaring away native birds as they went. Jolt kept several metres between him and Ironhide, watching his fellow Autobot's back just in case…well, just in case anything happened. Jolt had lost both of his signature electric whips in the fight with Starscream, something that annoyed him since they would both take time to regenerate. Now he was left with his single arm cannon, something he didn't have much practice with.

Ironhide halted abruptly, having come across a trail of the strange blue residual energy that Centurion seemed to leave in his wake. Jolt stopped as well, making sure to keep an eye out for any suspicious movement. He doubted that they would actually find Centurion since they had both been walking through the forest for some time, perhaps almost thirty Earth minutes. It seemed likely that Centurion had made his escape, perhaps having taken on a vehicle form and left that way. However, there was plenty of evidence that suggested otherwise since there was plenty of the residual energy left behind in the forest. The residue emitted some sort of interference that wreaked havoc with their sensors, perhaps explaining why Centurion was so hard to find with standard sensor scans.

"Hold here, Jolt," Ironhide said, bending over and sticking two fingers into the largest clump of the residue. It sizzled away the tips of both fingers and he brushed it off onto a nearby tree, grateful to be rid of the hazardous material. He stood back up, looking up ahead as if he had seen something.

"What is it?" Jolt asked, taking a step forwards. There were many dried leaves piled on the ground near their feet, especially up ahead near where Ironhide stood. It occurred to the Autobot that there was a large pile at least thirty feet long, piled up in a ditch a short distance from where Ironhide stood.

"He's here," Ironhide said, turning around to face Jolt. He had brought out his right arm cannon and Jolt did the same, the two of them running complete scans of the area. Unfortunately the residual energy that was congealed on the nearby foliage made scanners unreliable, thus effectively masking Centurion's life-spark signature under a whole lot of interference.

Jolt was the one who saw the movement from the leaf-filled ditch first. Centurion shot up and out of the ditch, dry leaves falling from him while he clutched his signature spear weapon. The energy shield that covered his figure shimmered in the light while Centurion stood set against the sun, the glare causing Jolt's visual receptors to compensate for it.

Ironhide was closest and he managed to turn around, raising his right arm cannon towards Centurion. However, Centurion was much faster and he lunged forwards at the big Autobot, the end of his spear knocking away Ironhide's cannon wielding arm as he fired. The energy blast shot off into the sky, harming no one.

Jolt stood and watched, surprised and confused on what to do. Centurion kicked Ironhide in the stomach area with one foot, causing the Autobot to stumble back momentarily. It was here that Centurion seized his opportunity, plunging the razor tip of his spear straight into Ironhide's chest area so that it connected with the Autobot's life-spark. Ironhide emitted a loud mechanical moan as Centurion impaled him on the spear, pushing it straight through him so that it was sticking about halfway out of Ironhide's back.

"Ironhide!" Jolt shouted this more on impulse than any other reason, watching as Ironhide stood with a somewhat stunned look on his dark metal features.

Ironhide's hands briefly and weakly clutched at the spear that had impaled him. He was still alive and before Jolt had started shooting Centurion placed the impaled Ironhide between him and the younger Autobot.

"YOU FILTHY DECEPTICON! I'LL KILL YOU!" Jolt was suddenly overcome with rage but it was enough of a rage to impair his judgement.

Jolt brought up his cannon, firing away at Centurion. Ironhide was unfortunately in the way but Jolt barely noticed, emptying several high powered shots in Centurion's direction. Each one blew a sizeable chunk out of Ironhide before Jolt realized that he was shooting the wrong robot. Centurion simply laughed and tossed the now deceased Ironhide aside, starting towards Jolt at an intimidating pace.

Jolt's energy cannon had little effect on Centurion, each shot exploding harmlessly on the shimmering shield that enveloped his frame. It wasn't long before Centurion and the young Autobot were face-to-face. Jolt realized then that he was in trouble but he was still brimming with too much anger to really do much about it.

Centurion grabbed Jolt's cannon-wielding arm and in one fluid movement he twisted and tore the young Autobot's right arm out of its socket. Jolt shouted in agony, his pain receptors going into overtime as fluid and molten metal oozed out of his right arm socket. Centurion simply laughed, tossing the torn-out arm aside. Jolt stumbled backwards a few paces, reeling from the agony that was shooting through his system.

"What is your name, Autobot?" Centurion asked, his voice a mocking tone. Jolt looked up at him, his sensors detecting that interference was simply emanating off of the Decepticon.

"_What is your name?!"_ Centurion hissed the question, now seething with anger.

"Jolt…" Jolt wasn't even sure why he answered. He knew he was at the complete mercy of this Decepticon and now he was beginning to feel the kind of fear he hadn't felt in a long time. It was the kind of fear that came with a life-threatening situation such as this.

"Well, Jolt, I'm always on the lookout for new followers," Centurion said, giving the metallic equivalent of a malevolent smile, "what do you say to that, Jolt? Do you want to join my cause or do I have to kill you?"

_Join you? Why would I want to do that?_ Jolt was surprised at the question, having expected Centurion to simply kill him instead of offer him a position as a loyal follower. Of course, Jolt wasn't about to betray his fellow Autobots.

"Kill me," Jolt replied, the agonizing pain in his right arm socket having receded. He was still clouded with both anger and fear, although it was impossible to determine which feeling was the more prominent.  
Centurion seemed to have been expecting this answer. Rather suddenly he placed his right hand onto Jolt's face, the energy that coursed along him burning into the Autobot's features. Jolt thought that Centurion was trying to kill him but this was quickly proven wrong by what happened next.

"I will show you what you're missing out on, Jolt," Centurion said, "I won't kill you…Not like what I did to Ironhide over there." He nodded towards Ironhide's corpse and Jolt could see that the big Autobot had ceased moving altogether. "Or should I say…what _you_ did?"

Jolt became aware of the thin, snake-like blue tendrils that were growing from the tips of Centurion's fingers on his right hand. They burnt his face as they snaked their way across it, finding their way into his eye sockets and into his mouth. Jolt managed a muffled scream but it was cut short when the first of the tendrils found its way to the Autobot equivalent of a "brain". Jolt felt a rather odd tingling sensation as the tendrils snaked their way into his very thoughts, projecting images into his mind which soon enveloped all that Jolt could see.

"Do you see, Jolt?" Centurion asked, his voice sounding oddly distant. "Do you see Him?"

Jolt could see nothing but a black void. Centurion's disembodied voice called out to him, gradually growing in volume until it was the only thing he could hear.

Suddenly Jolt was barraged with a whole array of images showing differing scenes of destruction. He could see Cybertron, devastated as it was now by an ongoing and seemingly never-ending war. He could see stars and whole solar systems…He watched as a whole planet was devoured, being broken at its very seams by some sort of incredible force…  
_"Do you see him, Jolt?"_ Centurion's voice boomed loudly from nowhere. _"Do you see our Lord for the God he is?"  
_Jolt managed a reply, his voice weak and sounding quite faint.

"No…"

"_DO YOU SEE HIM?"_ Centurion sounded angry and somewhat crazed now. _"DO YOU SEE HIM AS THE GOD HE IS, THE ONE TRUE RULER OF ALL THAT IS?"  
_Jolt did see something in fact. Beyond all of the planets he was watching being devoured by some sort of invisible force he could see something. It was perhaps as big as any one of the planets he could see, but much different. He was immediately struck with overwhelming fear but overwhelming awe as well. Part of him wanted a closer look…but another part of him didn't.

"Tell me, Jolt," Centurion said, "do you see him as the God he is?"

"No…"

"TELL ME: IS HE A GOD? WILL YOU TAKE HIM AS YOUR ONE TRUE LORD? DO YOU SEE THE POWER HE HOLDS?" Centurion sounded angry and this anger seemed to transfer straight into Jolt's mind. Jolt felt the rage surge through him and he felt like lashing out but for some reason he could not move.

"No…" Pain shot through Jolt's mind, sent by Centurion. Jolt fell to his knees, struck with terror.

"_HE IS YOUR GOD!"_ Centurion's booming voice deafened him and sent more agonizing pain through his whole body. "FOR HE IS LORD UNICRON, THE CHAOS BRINGER!"  
"He is Lord Unicron…" Jolt heard himself saying, the visions leaving his mind almost instantly. Centurion tore his hand away from the young Autobot's face, the tendrils snaking back into his fingers as he did so. He managed a curious look down at the terror-struck Autobot, his red eyes seeming to glare right into Jolt's mind.

"Consider my words, Jolt," Centurion said, leaving Jolt on his knees and exhausted. "I have to leave now…feel grateful that I did not kill you."

Centurion turned around but his departure was barely noticed by Jolt. Instead, Jolt was on his knees clutching at his right arm socket while he muttered quietly, ensuring that he was the only one who could hear what he was saying.

"_He is my God…He is the ruler of all that is…He is Lord Unicron…"_

* * *

**A/N:** Now things are a bit serious. It just so happens that Ironhide is perhaps my favourite Autobot, and as such he's the one to get killed in this chapter. I'm sure that makes sense…right? And in the one chapter where Jolt gets some lines he ends up getting brain-washed. Oh, well.


	21. Rendezvous

**Rendezvous  
**Somewhere outside the town of Groningen, Holland (the Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

The fight at the airfield had been nothing compared to the carnage that had occurred at the Dutch military compound. Ratchet was in vehicle mode, as well as the Twins, Chromia and Firestar and this convoy of vehicles had made their way to the compound in an effort to aid the humans that were under attack there. However, they had arrived somewhat late, the Autobots watching as a squadron of Dutch Air Force jets dropped a payload of high-powered explosives onto the two Decepticons on the rampage within the compound. Explosions shook the ground beneath and the Decepticons were blown away in the ensuing fireballs, tents being completely levelled and vehicles being tossed into the air.

Ratchet figured then and there that his help in the battle was no longer needed. Instead, he quickly changed from his vehicle mode to full robot form and the other Autobots followed suit. There was no need for secrecy anymore since the humans here were pretty aware of their existence, albeit confused as to what they actually were. Ratchet watched as the squadron of Dutch jets disappeared into the distance, their job done since both Decepticons at the compound had been thrown into the dirt and were in pieces.

Today had started off normally enough, Ratchet had thought, with them arriving in Holland with the mission of determining whether it really was a Decepticon on the loose within the lockdown zone. Obviously there had been one loose, one that all the other Decepticons were interested in helping since plenty of these ordinary Decepticon soldiers had rained down onto the region in drop-pods. Ratchet was left thinking of Megatron had arrived as well, a possibility that seemed quite likely. This mission had turned into an all-out battle and, if his feelings were correct, then it wasn't quite over just yet. There were still Decepticons on the loose and there was still a clean-up operation to take care of. No doubt the humans in NEST would want this whole thing covered up, probably using the same old cover-story of rogue prototype military robots going on the rampage. It was the same story they had used in Mission City and Egypt and it was perhaps the most plausible one aside from the actual truth…although there were probably many humans who could see through these hastily conceived lies and were on a search for the truth. Regardless, Ratchet would have to be careful with whatever he did now since so many of these Dutch soldiers had seen him and were probably quite confused as to whether or not he was on their side.

Ratchet was the first to arrive in the devastated military compound, stepping over a few burning vehicles as he went inside. There was not a single tent or temporary shelter left standing, no doubt the work of the two now dead Decepticons. There was a third Decepticon lying dead nearby, probably having been taken down by the humans during the battle. The humans had probably called in the air support as a final desperate move to take down the two Decepticons who had undoubtedly been more than a match for the human defences.

Behind him, Skids and Mudflap were taking a look around and were sifting through one of the destroyed tents in an effort to find survivors. They didn't seem to be met with much success however, implying that the Decepticons that had attacked here had been somewhat thorough in the destruction they had caused. Chromia and Firestar were looking around another part of the compound, carefully sifting through the wreckage as they went.

Ratchet's scanners could detect no visible life signs. He could detect many dead human bodies since they were scattered all over, victims of the Decepticon attack. However, he couldn't actually detect any _living_ humans. The air strike had probably killed off any survivors, indicating that it had been a desperate move on the part of the humans. However, Ratchet knew that someone had to have been around to call in that air strike, thus implying that maybe all hope of finding survivors was not lost…not yet, anyway.

He stepped towards the centre of the compound, the ground around him pock-marked with blast craters. A few flaming vehicles lay nearby while several dead Dutch soldiers lay scattered near them. It was perhaps one of the most thorough attacks the Decepticons had carried out on a human military installation since the one Blackout had carried out on the Soccent base in Qatar. Ratchet was doubtful that they would find any survivors but it was worth taking a look anyway, even if his sensors told him that such a search would be in vain.

He did detect a radio nearby, one that was still switched on and broadcasting. It was hidden behind some fairly intact metal boxes and as Ratchet approached his sensors did detect something: movement, which was undoubtedly hinting towards there being life.

Ratchet hurried over, pushing aside the metal boxes and crouching down to take a closer look. If he wasn't mistaken then he was looking right at the Dutch General, Izaac Rutgers, who had been in charge of the lockdown operation. He was slowly rising to his feet, having hit the dirt when the jets had arrived with their payload. Now he was stumbling back in fear as he turned and saw Ratchet, obviously thinking that Ratchet was just another of the hostile robots. This assumption couldn't be further from the truth.

"What…are you?" Rutgers asked, stunned at what he was seeing. Ratchet decided that he would show this human that he would cause n harm to him. It was obvious the General had been through a lot during the battle; evident by the way his uniform was scorched and dirtied from all of the fighting and explosions.

"My name is Ratchet," the Autobot replied somewhat simply, "I am an Autobot. I do not mean you any harm, General."

The General stopped where he was, considering Ratchet's words for a moment. This was seconds before he started laughing, gesturing towards the surrounding devastation as his laughing ascended into angry yelling.

"No harm? _No harm?_" He laughed in between his yells, now only just comprehending what had happened. "Do you have any idea what just happened? Or did you just arrive now to lend a hand _after_ those bastard robots were killed?"

Ratchet could see that the General was quite obviously traumatized by what had occurred. He could do little to help the human in this regard since psychology wasn't his specialty. Ratchet stood up, taking a look around at the devastated military compound. Already NEST soldiers were arriving in SUVs and trucks, probably with the intention of cleaning up all of the dead Decepticons. The Dutch would be left with nothing but many dead soldiers and a loss of equipment. They wouldn't get their own alien technology to research, as NEST policy ensured that other nations of this world didn't get hold of any dead Decepticons or Autobots.

"I am sorry, General," Ratchet said, "I am sorry for the losses you took. You should be grateful that _you_ survived, since the Decepticons have never been ones to leave loose ends…"

The General laughed again, turning slightly to glance at the NEST soldiers that were arriving at the front of the compound. He probably had a feeling about just who they were and why they were here, thus making him laugh somewhat crazily some more.

"Let me guess: those Americans are going to ensure that no trace of what happened here is left behind?" The General asked, guessing correctly. "Because if they are, I am going to get _really_ pissed off. I went through hell in that battle, watching all of my soldiers get killed…and for what? WHAT?!" He was shouting now as he watched the NEST soldiers cordon off the area and cart dead soldiers away on stretchers. Some of the other NEST soldiers were beginning to work on a means of removing the dead Decepticons.

"Nothing! That's what! NOTHING!" The General was angry now and he went storming towards the nearest dead Decepticon, pushing his way through the three soldiers that were there as he began yelling at them and swearing at them in Dutch.

Ratchet watched this all with some amusement despite the obvious fact the General was traumatized by what had happened in the battle. Ratchet watched as the General was pushed away by the NEST soldiers, left to seethe in his own anger on the sidelines. A NEST helicopter arrived, hovering over the dead Decepticon so that the soldiers could attach the cable that dangled from the underbelly of the helicopter onto the dead robot. Within minutes the helicopter had flown away with the dead Decepticon in tow, an occurrence that only fuelled the General's rage.

"I killed that one!" He shouted as the helicopter departed, "I killed it! _Me!_ I should at least be able to keep it! But no…you Americans just have to leave with it, as if you own the damn thing! But you don't! _You don't! _Nobody owns it! _Nobody!_"

The General was mostly ignored, his yells lost in the wind that billowed across the compound. The NEST soldiers were simply doing their job, regardless of who it happened to annoy.

Ratchet didn't think of trying to calm down the General and instead turned to where the Twins were standing, approaching them as he considered on what they should do next. The battle wasn't over just yet it seemed, a fact made evident by the absence of Optimus, Ironhide, Jolt and Sideswipe. Those four were still in the lockdown zone, "investigating" an apparently abandoned Dutch military base. They had probably encountered some of the Decepticons that had arrived a short while ago and were probably stuck in combat with them. Ratchet figured that he and the others should head out to aid their fellow Autobots, a plan he was considering when his in-built radio switched into life. It was Breakaway, the one Autobot Ratchet didn't quite trust and it sounded like he had some news.

"_Ratchet, I've detected Optimus, Sideswipe as well as Major Lennox's team," _Breakaway announced, _"they're on their way. I don't know where Ironhide and Jolt are though. It could be bad news."_

"I hear you, Breakaway," Ratchet replied, "just keep watch from on high. Are there any Decepticons left in the area?" The last question was just so Ratchet could be sure that the battle was over or not. Something told him it wasn't.

"_I detect a trail of strange energy readings going right into the city of Groningen,"_ Breakaway replied after a brief pause to monitor his sensors, _"and I also detect that Megatron and Starscream are heading westwards, out of the country…"_

"Megatron is here? With Starscream?" Ratchet was surprised to hear this, but then again he had had the feeling that where there were Decepticons those two wouldn't be far away.

"_Apparently so,"_ Breakaway said, _"but they seem to be leaving. Whatever it was they came here for they must have got it. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing."_

Ratchet considered their options, realizing that he was in the position to order Breakaway to pursue the fleeing Decepticon leader and his subordinate. Of course, that probably wasn't necessary since both Decepticons were leaving and thus wouldn't give them any trouble.

"Understood, Breakaway," Ratchet replied, "but I feel it's best you regroup with us back at the Dutch military encampment. If Optimus is on his way here then he'll arrive soon and chances are he'll have orders."

"_I'm on my way,"_ Breakaway replied, switching off the signal.

Ratchet thought about these developments, trying to figure out what they could mean. Why had Megatron and Starscream even come here in the first place? The two Decepticons had spent a year out of the picture, probably back on whatever off-world base they had as they planned their return and bided their time. They were without a large army due to their failure to activate the energon harvester in Egypt and without energon they wouldn't be able to raise many soldiers. It occurred to Ratchet that the attacks on the airfield and the Dutch military camp had been mere diversions to keep the Autobots off of Megatron and Starscream. This was a sensible guess to make and probably one that was close to the truth.

"So, what are we gonna do now?" Skids asked, getting Ratchet's attention, "I mean, dose two Decepticon asses are getting away. Don't yah think we should at least chase dem?"

"I doubt that's what Optimus has in mind," Ratchet replied, "besides, we wouldn't be able to keep up. Both Megatron and Starscream are airborne…they would be far beyond our reach by now."

"I suppose you're right about that," Mudflap interjected, taking a step forwards, "I just don't like the idea of letting both of those guys get away. I mean, I didn't even know they were here! And now they're getting away? It seems like a bit of a wasted opportunity…"  
Ratchet only nodded, agreeing with this statement. _A wasted opportunity indeed,_ he mused. There was a chance Optimus and the others had had a run it with them, hence the reason the pair were making an escape. It was either that or the two of them had found what they had come here for, as Breakaway had mentioned: it was hard to determine whether this was a good or bad thing.

There was movement at the front gates of the destroyed compound and a familiar looking blue truck with flame decals drove into view, followed by a just as familiar silver sports car. The vehicles stopped, allowing their human occupants to exit. Lennox, Epps, Graham and another NEST soldiers emerged from the vehicles, all four of them looking somewhat dirty and weary. This was a definite indication that they had seen combat against the Decepticons. Ratchet thought that the absence of both Jolt and Ironhide hinted at them having been killed. Worried, Ratchet started towards Optimus and Sideswipe as they changed out of their vehicle modes, standing in full robot form. Sideswipe was wounded, a jagged but somewhat small hole having been put right through his shoulder.

"Ratchet, Sideswipe requires assistance," Optimus said as the Autobot medic approached.

Ratchet stopped in front of Sideswipe, taking a quick look at his wound and dressing it with a repairing agent that would aid in the regeneration. He could do little else since the wound itself wasn't too serious although Sideswipe would probably be better off taking a rest from the fighting for a while though.

"What happened out there?" Ratchet asked.

Optimus had been looking around at the devastated military compound, probably trying to determine what had happened here. He watched as the NEST personnel carted away the two dead Decepticons that had been lying nearby, blown away by the human air strike.

"What happened here?" Optimus asked.

"We were attacked, that's what happened," Ratchet replied rather bluntly. He was somewhat annoyed at the suddenness of this whole attack since they had had no warning…and there was yet to be any real indication of why the Decepticons had bothered. However, judging from the serious gaze on Optimus' metallic features it seemed that he knew something Ratchet didn't. And it was probably something that wasn't good.

"Where's Jolt? And Ironhide?" Ratchet asked, taking note of their absence. Optimus looked up, having been deep in thought before Ratchet's question came breaking into his mind.

"I sent them after Centurion," Optimus replied.

Centurion? Ratchet was surprised to hear this name. He had heard of Centurion, the rogue Decepticon who had formed his own army and attempted to destroy Megatron. Ratchet had also heard of Centurion's disappearance, along with what had happened to Optimus' son.

"He's here? On Earth?" Ratchet had not been expecting this. Then again, he hadn't been expecting any Decepticons to simply come falling from the sky like meteorites today either.

Optimus simply nodded. Ratchet wasn't sure what he should think, although he could see that Optimus was already thinking through what this could mean.

"We found him talking with Megatron and Starscream," Optimus said, sounding somewhat worried towards this development, "I never thought Centurion would bother working with Megatron but I guess I was wrong. It is a worrying turn of events, however: it would be safe to assume that both Centurion and Megatron have a mutual interest in this world. Why? I don't know." The Autobot leader shook his head, still trying to work out the full extent of the situation.

Skids and Mudflap approached the group, having overhead most of the conversation.

"Centurion? Who's that?" Mudflap asked, trying to see if this name rang a bell anywhere in his memory. It didn't seem to judging by the perplexed look that crossed his face.

"He's a big bad Decepticon, you idiot," Skids said, "_that_ much is obvious."

Mudflap shot his brother an annoyed look.

"Who are you calling an idiot?" He asked, the tone in his voice suggesting that he wanted to start a fight.

"The guy behind you…" Skids replied jokingly, his voice with a sarcastic tone. "Of course I was talking to you, you moron! Who did you think I was talking to?"

"I dunno…you could have been talking to Ratchet…"

"Ratchet ain't nowhere near being an idiot. You, on the other hand, are already there."

The pair continued on like this for quite a while. Ratchet, Optimus and Sideswipe wisely chose to ignore the petty squabbling taking place between the Twins who were standing behind them.

"There was something else," Optimus said, continuing on from where he had left off before the interruption by the Twins, "something worrying. It seems that Centurion has managed to harness an energy source unlike any other I have encountered."

Ratchet sensed the worry in Optimus' voice. If something ever got Optimus worried then it was probably sensible for all the other Autobots to be worried as well.

"He is near impossible to harm. He is protected by a shield, one that is impervious to all of our weapons…" Optimus trailed off, still thinking all of these things through. Simply too much had happened today, with the battle and the encounter with this presumed dead Decepticon.

"Are you saying we can't stop him?" Ratchet asked, giving the robotic equivalent of a frown, "because that's not the sort of thing you say, Optimus. At least, not the Optimus I know…"

Optimus shook his head, either in disagreement or some other reason, Ratchet wasn't sure.

"I am not saying we can't stop him," Optimus replied, "I am sure we will find a way to defeat him. I sent Jolt and Ironhide to follow him and see if they can find out why he's here…until those two return we should remain here and deliberate upon our next move."

"Breakaway called in before you arrived," Ratchet said, remembering what the airborne Autobot had said, "it seems there are two Decepticons heading for the human city of Groningen."

"Then we will have to take care of them next," Optimus said, deciding what they should do next then and there.

"As well as this, it seems both Megatron and Starscream are headed out of this country, westwards," Ratchet replied, "if they really did talk with Centurion as you say then they may be heading off to find something. It may be best to…"

"To what? Follow them?" Optimus shook his head. "No, we haven't got the numbers to keep track of Megatron, Starscream _and_ Centurion all at once. We have to tackle one thing at a time, hence why I may have an idea.

"Centurion's energy shield, the one that makes him impervious to all of our weapons, has a flaw that we may be able to exploit."

Ratchet's attention peaked when he heard this and he leaned forward slightly, curious to hear Optimus' plan. If there was a flaw in Centurion then it was at least a spark of hope in this dismal situation.

"And what is that flaw, Optimus?" Ratchet asked.

"It leaves in its wake a distinctly recognizable residue, one that we can detect with our sensors. However, the nearer we come to this residue the more interference we receive, thus getting an exact lock on Centurion's location is next to impossible. By following the energy residue trail we can get at least some indication of where he is." Optimus paused for a moment in order to think the sensibility of this plan through.

"Breakaway mentioned that he had detected a trail of strange energy readings heading towards the city of Groningen," Ratchet said, remembering this particular statement well. He only needed to replay it in his mind and thus allowed a few pieces of the puzzle to come together. Optimus realized the same thing: Centurion was headed for Groningen, perhaps in an effort to make an escape.

There would be much to disguise one's self as in a human city and if Centurion could change his form into something less conspicuous then finding him in a populated human city would be difficult. However, Optimus seemed quite ready to go with this plan.

"Once Jolt and Ironhide return we will depart for the city of Groningen," Optimus said, "I have a feeling that taking care of Centurion should be up high on our list of priorities."

"And what of Megatron and Starscream?" Ratchet asked. Judging from the look Optimus gave the return of these two figureheads seemed like a mere sidenote.

"We can deal with them later," Optimus said, "Centurion, however, is the biggest threat. We can't allow him to be let loose within a populated human city…protecting the humans is, after all, one thing we have to keep doing."

Ratchet looked around at the devastation around them, figuring that they were doing a good job of protecting the humans if a whole lot of them had been killed today. This was of course more of a sarcastic thought although Ratchet didn't say it out loud, noticing that Optimus seemed far more edgy than usual. It could have been the return of Centurion but Ratchet could tell that there was something else of the Prime's mind.

It very likely had to do with Optimus Prime's son, Deadeye, who had been lost with Centurion during that fateful day on Cybertron years before. Perhaps seeing the Decepticon responsible for his son's apparent death had struck a chord within Optimus. Ratchet knew that if he saw his son's killer well and alive he would probably feel the same way. This would explain why Optimus seemed somewhat eager to get on with chasing Centurion.

At that moment a familiar F-35 fighter jet with a desert camouflage pattern came roaring down low, swooping in over the devastated military compound before it shifted into Breakaway's full robot form. He landed with a dull _thud_ amongst the flattened wreck of a nearby tent, taking a moment to gather his senses before he saw the other Autobots standing nearby. He walked over, beaming with annoying confidence. At least, it annoyed Ratchet.

"Okay, I'm here," Breakaway said, "what are we going to do next? I heard of Centurion's return, by the way…" He trailed off, recalling memories of the time he had spent within Centurion's forces. Ratchet could tell that Breakaway was conflicted at best, hence one reason why he didn't quite trust the recently arrived Autobot.

"I have sent Jolt and Ironhide to follow Centurion," Optimus said, turning to face Breakaway, "you didn't happen to pick up their locations on the way here, did you?"

Breakaway shook his head.

"No, there's too much interference wherever Centurion's been. It's as if some sort of strange energy emanates off of the guy…"

"It does," Optimus replied bluntly, "I saw it with my very own eyes. Centurion is protected by a powerful close-fitting energy shield, one that is able to absorb anything we throw his way. It is somewhat…unnerving to think that he is working with Megatron."

"I detected Megatron," Breakaway said, trying his best to strike some optimism into the somewhat subdued mood of the Autobots here, "he was fleeing westwards, heading in the general direction of the United States. I don't know where he's going but his buddy Starscream was with him. If they are working for Centurion then they might be going off on some errand of his, although I don't think Megatron is the errand-running type."

There was a brief silence as the neither member of the group could think of anything else to add. In all the situation was quite grim: plenty of humans had been killed, Megatron and Starscream had returned and a near unstoppable Decepticon had shown up on Earth. Things probably couldn't get any worse but such a thought would have been unrealistic.

"What are we going to do next?" Breakaway asked, "There are still a few Decepticons out there and I'm pretty sure leaving them to go on the rampage isn't a smart idea."

"We'll be heading for the human city of Groningen once Jolt and Ironhide return," Optimus said, "it seems that Centurion may be heading there himself, so we may be able to finish this mission within the day." He paused, taking a look to the right in the direction of Lennox and the other humans who were standing around a somewhat annoyed General Rutgers. "I have to speak with Lennox, though. He may have other ideas."

Optimus departed the group, leaving Ratchet, Breakaway and Sideswipe to ponder on what had been discussed. Meanwhile, Major William Lennox had been trying to talk some sense into the Dutch General Izaac Rutgers but had been met with little success since the General had a habit of yelling and then insulting him in Dutch. The arrival of Optimus at the scene made the General fall silent, a welcome change to the circumstances.

"Ah, Optimus," Lennox said, somewhat grateful for the intervention. He turned to face the Autobot leader who stopped a short distance away. The General was trying to look unfazed but the uncertainty and fear was evident on his ageing features while his right hand shook somewhat uncontrollably. For the last ten minutes the General had been insulting Lennox and the other NEST soldiers in between yelling at them and declaring that they had been lying to him about the whole situation. He seemed quite certain that Optimus and the other Autobots were some sort of American secret weapons and so Lennox had been trying to convince him otherwise, realizing that if the General went on to alert the Dutch government about all of this then there would be considerable political backlash against the United States.

"Tell this guy to shut up," Lennox said, nodding over at the General, "he doesn't know when to stop…"

"But you lied to me, you filthy Americans!" General Rutgers started again, the arrival of Optimus having done little to dissuade him otherwise. "You knew what was out there! You knew this would happen! And yet you said you were just here to investigate! What a load of CRAP!"

"Listen, General," Epps said, taking a step towards the Dutch General whilst wearing a fierce scowl. The General jumped backwards in fright, having expected to have been punched.

Epps raised a thumb and forefinger, space the tips of the two only about a few centimetres apart.

"I'm about _this_ close from hitting you," Epps said, "because you really are beginning to piss me off. If you know what's good for you, you'll shut the hell up."

"You don't scare me, Sergeant," the General said, somewhat cockily, "besides, you can't hit me…I'm a General!"

As if to simply spite the man Epps delivered a strong right hook across the General's face, the force of the blow causing the General to stumble backwards. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth while a satisfied looking Epps relaxed, flexing the fingers of his right hand in order to get them to recover from the punch.

General Rutgers' eyes widened with absolute surprise when he recovered from the blow. Lennox, Captain Graham and the other nearby soldiers looked on in surprise. Optimus didn't know what to think although he had found the General's continuous yelling to be quite annoying to listen to.

"You…you hit me!" The General exclaimed.

"What are you gonna do about that, General?" Graham interjected, smiling, "complain to your troops? Oh, wait…they're all dead. You probably would have ended up the same if it wasn't for us."

"Thus, you should be damn grateful we got here when we did," Lennox said sternly, "those big robots that attacked here…they don't usually like to leave loose ends like you lying around. Trust me: _I know_."

Optimus decided to get Lennox and the others trained on more important matters since all they seemed to be doing know was taunting the traumatized Dutch General.

"Major Lennox," Optimus said, getting the Major's attention, "Breakaway has detected two Decepticons heading for the city of Groningen. It is also possible that Centurion is headed there as well."

Lennox nodded, acknowledging this statement as he considered on what they should do.

"Any news from either Jolt or Ironhide?"

Optimus shook his head. The pair had been gone a while and it was now that Optimus realized that not all could be well with the two. They should have at least tried to radio their status by now but instead radio silence had come from both of the Autobots. The interference that Centurion's shield caused was probably the reason why they hadn't called back, although Optimus had the feeling that this could very well be just wishful thinking on his part. If something had happened to either of them…well, he would probably just blame himself.

Lennox seemed to be thinking the same sort of thing judging by the serious expression that fell upon his face.

"Well, when they do decide to call back we'll try and organize something," Lennox said, "we can't just leave two Decepticons wandering around a Dutch city, can we?"

"They're in a city?" This was the General and he sounded suitably surprised. "You have to stop them!"

"No shit," Epps commented bluntly.

Optimus saw movement at the front gates. A look in the direction of the gates revealed that Jolt had arrived, dragging behind him a large and familiar looking Autobot.

Within seconds Optimus was running over, fear striking at his very life-spark as he realized why Jolt was dragging Ironhide behind him. Lennox, Epps and the other humans followed as well as the other Autobots. Soon a whole crowd had formed around the dazed looking Jolt who was muttering quietly to himself, his right arm missing while the other held onto the arm of a rather dead looking Ironhide.

Part of Jolt's face was burnt while his torn-out right arm had been tucked under his still attached left one. It was obvious the young Autobot had bee through hell and back, something made even more evident by what he was saying. His voice was quiet and his eyes stared somewhat blankly ahead but Optimus could still make out what he was saying. Jolt spoke almost automatically, as if he wasn't thinking about what was being said.

_"For He is ruler of all that is…The Destroyer of Worlds…The Chaos Bringer…The Lord Unicron…"_

Optimus approached the fallen Ironhide, able to see that Jolt had had the sense of dragging his fallen comrade all the way back here. Optimus recognized Centurion's signature spear weapon almost immediately, seeing that it had impaled Ironhide straight through his very life-spark.

Within Optimus, something clicked. He realized then and there that it was his fault this had happened…He had been too eager to have someone find out why Centurion was here in the hope that they might hear something of his son, too blind to see the obvious fact that Centurion was more than a match for any Autobot…

Ratchet rushed to Ironhide's side but a quick examination of the Autobot's injuries confirmed what Optimus already knew. Breakaway, Lennox, Epps, The Twins and Captain Graham were silent as they all worked out the obvious.

Ironhide was dead. He had been taken by surprise, impaled by Centurion's spear through the one thing that kept him alive. In rage Optimus punched the ground in front of him, knowing that there was nothing they could do to bring back their fallen comrade.

"Is he dead?" Epps asked, his tone solemn.

Ratchet nodded. Epps simply fell silent again as had the others.

Jolt, meanwhile, seemed completely oblivious to the crowd that had gathered around him. Within moments he had fallen to the ground, left barely alive by whatever Centurion had put him through. Ratchet raced to his side, finding that the young Autobot was still alive. A quick scan revealed that there was some sort of foreign energy racing through his body, having all the properties of a…virus. Ratchet made sure to double and triple-check his readings, somewhat incredulous as to how such a foreign element could have gotten into Jolt.

What Jolt had said had rang a loud and resounding bell within Optimus' mind. Unicron, now where had he heard that name before? Optimus had lived for many, many years and in that time he had heard legends of a figure known as Unicron. Many regarded him as the one responsible for all that was wrong in the Cybertronian race for it had been Unicron who had convinced the Fallen to betray his species. Jolt was too young to know of such a figure so why then had the young Autobot been rambling on about him?

Still, Optimus' mind was clouded with both guilt and rage. He was guilty over Ironhide's death and the rage was there because he wished to enact vengeance on Centurion. Not only had Centurion made him lose his only son but now he had made him lose a close and trusted friend.

Optimus vowed that Centurion wouldn't get off lightly for what he had done.


	22. Always on my Mind

**Always on my mind  
**Somewhere under the New Mexico desert, USA  
December 14th

It was about six o'clock in the evening and the sun had set, casting twilight upon the New Mexico desert. Underneath the abandoned town of Morgue was an underground facility, one where Colonel Francis Weller and his men organized their operations from. Today had been a somewhat exciting day since an Autobot had escaped and someone had managed to infiltrate the facility and steal an alien artefact. Colonel Weller had been quite annoyed about this at first but now he didn't care too much. Why? Because he knew all that he needed to already.  
For almost the last six hours he had locked himself in his office, scrawling down everything that flashed into his mind. Most of it was alien symbols, the ancient language of Cybertron while others were sketches that he seemed to have no trouble in drawing. Currently he had managed to scrawl Cybertronian symbols all over his desk, the floor and the walls since he had run out of paper earlier on. He had managed to acquire some more though and had then managed to scrawl about two hundred pages of notes within hours.

Not only that but he had called in Captain Xander Farnell, his second-in-command, and the Colonel had told the Captain to arrange for him to get more paper and a computer with Internet access. In between writing things down Weller had accessed the Internet from a laptop computer on his desk, looking up such advanced applications of physics only to find that they all made sense to him now. He had a grasp of things that even Einstein would have had trouble with. Apparently, the "magic dust" that the All-spark had broken down into that Weller had accidentally inhaled had given him such a wealth of knowledge his head had begun to hurt.

Still, Weller had kept on scrawling notes in the ancient Cybertronian language, trying to make sense of everything that had been downloaded into his mind. The peculiar physical side effects, such as the slightly bluer eyes and the cold metal forming at the back of his throat were shrugged off by Weller has mere inconveniences. He could live with such things even if others would have gone to see a doctor about it. He didn't need to see a doctor though because he was feeling absolutely GREAT. He hadn't felt so energetic for years and to top it off he knew all they needed to know about the Cybertronian race. He knew most of their history and the important figures, although there were some glaring inconsistencies in what he knew that he was trying to iron out.

This meant scrawling pages and pages of notes on the blank paper the Captain had brought him a few hours earlier. Now the Colonel's office was an absolute mess with strange alien symbols drawn on the floors, the walls and even the ceiling. Papers littered the floor and covered his desk, most of them with more of the alien symbols drawn upon them. Some had sketches, such as one of the All-spark: if the Colonel was correct, he knew how to make another one. He had even drawn a carefully labelled and quite detailed diagram, unfortunately the ore required to build one didn't exist on Earth. Of course, Colonel Weller was attempting to find a way around this unfortunate hiccup as well as attempting to figure out anything else that might aid him and his organization in their quest to rid the Earth of both Autobots and Decepticons as well as give humanity access to advanced technology.

The alien ruins in Venezuela had something to do with it all, he knew that much. The ruins themselves were millions of years old yet made of the sort of alien ore that was capable of remaining intact for such long periods. It seemed that a lot of Cybertronian artefacts were made of the same metal ore, the sort that only existed on other planets and n Earth. If the Colonel was to see his scheme through he would need some of this ore.

Not only that but he knew some interesting facts about the ruins. For one the history of Cybertron that had been downloaded into his brain had given the Colonel all that he needed to know about the race: their strengths, their weaknesses and how to build some of their more advanced technology. He hadn't the resources to actually build any of these items but he was thinking he could start a somewhat simplified, cruder version of a device, the schematics of which were imprinted on his mind. He just needed to get the items to build it, something that would take time and it was time that was the one thing they didn't have.

Some would have said that Colonel Weller was ruthless and slightly crazy. If any of those people saw him now they would have not only said that he was "slightly" crazy but now bordering on insanity. Weller cared little about his mental state of mind at the moment, instead hastily scrawling down a detailed diagram of one item in particular that he knew about. It was a somewhat long, spear-like device with all the look and properties of a spear but it was something much more than that. In fact it may have been the answer to Weller's prayers and part of him was thinking that God himself may have guided him to discovering this knowledge. Yes, Weller was the God-fearing religious type and he knew that his mission of saving humanity from both the Autobots and Decepticons was his God-given duty. He was going to go to Heaven for this, he knew that.

Within minutes the Colonel's strangely fast hands had scrawled down a detailed diagram with a scale that indicated the spear was almost two metres long but actually had the capability to extend so it doubled this length. It was this ancient piece of Cybertronian treasure that his mind was concentrating on now since it linked to the ruins that had been found in Venezuela. All they needed now was to get the spear, something that wouldn't prove too difficult since Weller knew a way of finding it. It had all come with the knowledge embedded in the All-spark that had been passed onto him through a rather odd means.

Weller's stereo was playing in the background, having since gone off of the Rolling Stones from his iPod's playlist straight onto some rather upbeat eighties music. Now it was playing the Pet Shop Boys version of _Always on My Mind_ and Weller was humming along with the tune while he scribbled down notes on the diagram, writing them all in the Cybertronian language he knew fluently.

He felt hungry, hence the reason he had ordered the Captain to bring him numerous snacks during his extended stint in the office. So far Weller had eaten two whole chocolate cakes and was currently working his way through a bag of sweets, his craving for sugar having upped somewhat ever since the incident with the All-spark shard. He didn't care too much about this, thinking that he could just exercise all that he gained off later on.

Weller surveyed the diagram he had drawn, beaming proudly as he pulled a pin out of a drawer at his desk and stuck it to the wall behind him, adding it to a gradually expanding collection of pictures and pages of symbols that were already stuck to the wall. He could read all of the symbols, they all made sense to him. To anybody else however it would seem that Weller had become suitably obsessed and somewhat crazy. Weller didn't care what others think though, as long as all of these diagrams and writings made sense to him.

He was already formulating a means of locating the spear that he had set his mind on, thus he flicked a button on the intercom on his desk. He found that forming words had become a bit of an effort although he did manage to get his voice back within in a few moments of trying to talk.

"Captain, Captain!" Weller exclaimed somewhat loudly into the intercom, hearing the Captain manage a surprised grunt from the other end of the line, "get in my office! I have a lot to talk about!"

He flicked off the intercom and waited for Captain Farnell to arrive. He did after about a minute or two, pushing open the door and stepping inside. He tried to hide his surprise at seeing the mess within the Colonel's office and the fact that alien symbols had been drawn on every available surface but the Captain failed, simply managing an absolutely aghast look. There was definitely a lot more of the artistic gibberish everywhere than when he had last come in to deliver the chocolate cakes Weller had ordered.

"Captain Farnell, I know what you're thinking," Weller said, "and I don't care. I am still perfectly sane, so bear with me, alright?"

The Captain looked towards his superior and managed to compose himself, saluting as any good subordinate should. Weller decided to get straight to business although he wasn't sure on where to start. However, the Captain spoke first, trying to hide the uncertainty of his superior's state of mind from his voice. It didn't work.

"Uh, Colonel, I was thinking of coming to talk to you before you called me in," the Captain said, "and I, uh…well…It's about what's happened today, sir. You know, to do with that James Turner guy and the escaped Autobot…"

Weller laughed when he heard this. He laughed for a long time and he laughed heartily, slamming a palm on the desk to add emphasis to his amusement. The Captain watched his unstable superior carefully, trying to figure out what was so funny.

"So what about the priest?" Weller said, this being more of a rhetorical question than anything else, "and who cares about that damn Autobot? We don't need to worry about either of them. What we do need to worry about is all that I've found out, special thanks to the All-spark shard."

"But sir, the priest…he made off with an alien artefact. Something tells me we should do something about that…"

"We don't need to, Captain," Weller replied. Going after the priest and the escaped Autobot was just a waste of time in his opinion. He already knew what they should do next and it didn't involve the escaped Autobot or the interfering priest from Tranquility, Nevada.

"Why not, sir?" The Captain sounded doubtful as to whether or not Colonel Weller was making a sensible decision. Weller, of course, knew full well that he was making a sensible decision. Wasting time and resources on apprehending James Turner and the escaped Autobot would only draw them away from the real goal here: the ruins in Venezuela and the spear-like artefact that went with them.

"Why not, you say?" Weller leaned forwards, tapping one of the pages of alien symbols he had drawn up that was on his desk. He picked it up and showed the Captain, although he simply found that he was looking at fancy artistic gibberish.

"If you could read that Captain, you would know why," Weller said, putting the sheet back down. He then picked up the detailed diagram he had drawn of the All-spark cube and showed that to the Captain who in turn was able to make more sense of it…save for the alien symbols the Colonel had drawn instead of English while labelling the diagram.

"We could build another one of those if we wanted to," Weller continued, "I have the know-how. It's all up here." He tapped a finger to his temple, obviously indicating his mind.

"The All-spark shard did this to you?" The Captain asked, lowering the diagram, "but how? And why?"

"Who cares?" Weller laughed when he heard these questions. Why did the details of how and why matter when he had all the knowledge they would ever need inside his brain? The Captain failed to see the joke but he managed a false smile anyway, putting the diagram back onto the desk.

"And what would we gain from building another All-spark, sir?" The Captain asked.

_This guy is so full of questions,_ Weller thought absently.

"Absolutely nothing!" Weller exclaimed, laughing again, "but it sure would be fun, don't you think?"

"Uh…"

"Don't bother answering _that_ question," Weller interrupted, "because building another All-spark isn't what we're going to do. Instead, we're going to find something that is integral to unlocking the secrets of the ruins in Venezuela. It's a spear, one that's quite strong in our mythology but even more so for the Cybertronians."

The Captain looked perplexed but the Colonel simply smiled at this response, having expected as much. Instead, the Colonel took down the diagram he had drawn of the spear and handed it to the Captain. He doubted it would make the Captain learn much more than what Weller was telling him but it would put a picture in the Captain's mind and thus make explaining all of this somewhat easier.

"The Spear of Destiny, Captain," Weller said, remembering all that he had heard of this mythical item, "although the Cybertronians call it the 'Lance of Unicron'."

Farnell still managed to look perplexed and so Weller thought he would enlighten the Captain, using the knowledge that his mind was brimming with.

"The Lance of Unicron is apparently the very weapon that was used to harm Primus, the creator of the Cybertronian race," Weller said, "Primus is more or less the Cybertronian version of God. Unicron, on the other hand, is the Cybertronian version of Satan. Can you see the parallels here?"

Farnell nodded. It was hard to tell if he understood or was simply just humouring the Colonel but Weller didn't care, continuing with the explanation anyway.

"So, this…Unicron, he's the robot Devil? And he killed Primus?"

"I'm not so sure he 'killed' Primus, but he must have done something evil. However, Cybertronian mythology isn't what I'm interested in. What I'm interested in is the Lance of Unicron since this item is imbued with such powers that can enable its wielder to transcend space and time." Weller smiled at the thought of having such abilities. Being able to alter and travel time would undoubtedly come in handy in their fight against the Cybertronians. Turning alien technology against its creators, that was the way Weller was thinking of going with this conflict.

"You see, Unicron gave this Spear to the Fallen who in turn ended up losing it during a trip to Earth to construct the energon harvester. That's why it's turned up in our mythology as the Spear of Destiny, apparently imbued with such power that anyone who has it becomes unstoppable. However, the legend goes that once the wielder of the Spear loses possession of it they die shortly after. The Fallen lost it and he ended up imprisoned in the void outside all alternate realities."

Weller knew so much about the Cybertronians that he could have kept the Captain in his office all day. However, their window of opportunity to get the spear was running short since Weller had the feeling that there would be plenty of Decepticons searching for it. If any of them knew it was on Earth then chances are they would be looking for it right now.

"People such as Julius Caeser and Adolf Hitler have found the Spear but all have lost it, only to wind up dead soon after," Weller continued, "some would say this is a little curse Unicron placed on it but I think it's all just coincidence. Now Captain, if we had this Spear and were able to harness its powers then I'm guessing that we could rid the Earth of the Cybertronian scum that stains our world without much trouble. What do you say to my idea of getting it, eh?"

The Captain had been listening carefully to all of this, nodding his head somewhat eagerly when the Colonel was finished. Weller was satisfied that he had gotten his point across to the Captain and that they could start organizing the search for the Spear of Destiny. Hence the reason Weller had called the Captain to his office in the first place.

Weller shuffled through the numerous loose papers cluttering his desk, finding one in particular. Unlike all the others this one was actually written in English, thus allowing the Captain to read it. Weller handed the sheet to the Captain, getting straight to business.

"That there's a list of items I need," Weller explained, "see to it that they are delivered to me as soon as possible."

Captain Farnell skim-read the list and then shifted his gaze back to the Colonel, an eyebrow raised.

"Why do you need all of this stuff, sir?" The Captain asked, "I mean, we don't exactly keep some of this stuff lying around just in case we need it." He looked at the list again, reading out a few of the items: "A GPS, yeah well I'm sure we can get _that_ but some of this other stuff? Like three pounds of pure yellow-cake uranium and ten metres worth of fibre-optic cable? I don't know…"

Weller had been expecting such an answer and simply smiled.

"You see to it that I get those items, Captain," Weller said, "They are required so we can begin our search for the Spear. What I intend to build with those items will hopefully lead us right to the Spear of Destiny and in turn one step closer to our ultimate goal…"

"Complete removal of Cybertronians from Earth?" The Captain suggested, knowing that this was the answer.

"That's the one," Weller replied, smiling broadly. He could see that some of his ideals were rubbing off on the reliable Captain, hinting that they were all getting along quite well.

Captain Farnell folded the list and tucked it away into a pocket. He waited a moment, expecting Weller to say something else. When the Colonel didn't say anything Farnell spoke instead, sounding a little uncertain.

"You know sir, you should really get yourself checked out," The Captain said, "you look a little…well, you're sweating. And your eyes…they look a little shiny…"

Weller frowned, having thought that it had simply been hot in his office. He shrugged, not caring too much about the concerns the Captain had for him. Sure, there were some odd things happening to him ever since the incident with the All-spark shard but he felt fine. In fact, he had never felt better.

"Don't worry about me Captain," Weller said confidently, using one hand to close his laptop's lid, "I'm perfectly fine…"

There was a sudden searing pain in Weller's right hand as he closed the laptop which caused him to grunt with pain. He took his hand off of the laptop only a split second after a sudden surge of blue-white energy rippled across the laptop itself, having seemingly come from his hand. The pain resided and both Colonel Weller and Captain Farnell watched with some surprise as the laptop seemed to fold out of itself, taking the form of a rather small robotic creature with evil-looking red eyes, two arms, two legs and what looked to be a miniature chain-gun on each arm. The laptop's keyboard keys constituted most of the robot critter's "armour" while the front of it beared the former laptop's touch-pad mouse.

Weller dived to the floor when the little metal critter started firing both chain guns, bullets the size of pins flying forth and putting holes in the wall behind where the Colonel had been sitting. The robotic critter emitted a bird-like twitter before it turned around and started shooting at the Captain. The Captain side-stepped the volley of chain-gun fire, diving to the floor as the robotic critter went to adjust its aim.

Colonel Weller spent a few seconds surveying his hands, taking note of the metallic looking blue tendrils that had snaked their way under his skin and across a few of his fingers. They were barely noticeable though yet they were quite obviously the cause of this incident. Weller decided that he would wear some gloves from now on until he worked out just what was happening to him.

In the meantime there was a wild Decepticon on the loose in the office, crazily firing away its chain-guns. Papers that the Colonel had pinned to the walls were ripped to pieces while the small bar fridge in the corner was hammered with rounds, a few of which managed to punch their way through the metal.

Weller pulled out the Magnum .44 revolver he had in a holster at his waist, standing up while the critter had its back turned. He aimed and without even batting an eyelid he fired, the revolver booming loudly. One of the critter's arms was shot clean off inciting the creature to turn around. It emitted an annoyed chirp, preparing to shoot away its remaining chain-gun.

It didn't get a chance to shoot the Colonel though. Colonel Weller fired his revolver again, blowing the robot critter's head clean off. With a few sparks and a surprised sounding garble the former laptop turned wild Decepticon spun slightly where it stood before collapsing into a heap on the desk.

_What a waste of a good computer,_ Weller thought. He looked up as the Captain rose back onto his feet, looking somewhat confused as to what had happened.

"What the hell was that?" The Captain shouted, still trying to fathom what happened.

Weller didn't reply directly to the question, instead he put his revolver back in its holster and looked thoughtfully at the dead wild Decepticon that lay on his desk.

"I hate the small ones," he said simply.

* * *

Miles away, across a state border was the town of Flagstaff, in the neighbouring state of Arizona. Flagstaff was a fairly large desert town, being a typical sort of town for this part of America. It was quite a distance north from the state capital of Phoenix, Flagstaff being fairly out of the way yet fairly populated.

Flagstaff sat on the highway that winded its way halfway across the United States, heading for San Jose and San Francisco. Thus there were often many visitors in the town at any one point in time, many of them staying in the town for a while before continuing onwards. Trucks were fairly common traffic around here since the town was located on numerous truck routes.

There was another type of visitor in town today and he was the type that would have certainly gotten the attention of civilians if he had chosen to not be quiet and stealthy. This visitor was Deadeye, an Autobot and son of Optimus Prime. He had managed to escape Colonel Weller's human forces and had been travelling across the desert for hours on end. His alternate mode of an outdated armoured scout car would have only added to the attention he would have received, thus he had stayed in robot form the whole trip. He had come across a road leading into Flagstaff that traversed the hot and dry desert so he had followed it, ending up in the outskirts of the town.

He knew his circumstances were somewhat troublesome. Years had passed since he had last been awake, having been sent into a near-death state by his encounter with Centurion in war-torn Holland. Now he had been brought back to life, left to try and comprehend all of the changes Earth had developed during his time of "death".

He knew he would have to find some allies or at the very least stay on the run. Laying low was a fairly sensible option so Deadeye had decided to find himself a more subtle vehicular disguise, unlike his current vehicle mode of the German World War Two armoured scout car. Thus he had made his way into the town, staying out of sight of any of the humans as he worked his way through the back alleys that ran, maze-like, behind several shopfronts and office complexes.

Above, twilight had fallen across the sky. It was beginning to change to evening, hinting at the amount of time he had spent fleeing across the desert. According to the map he had downloaded off of the human "Internet" then he had traversed quite a distance, finding his way to Flagstaff with little trouble. He hadn't encountered many more of the humans that had been pursuing them and so he had been able to slip through their cordon with minimal fuss. Since then he had been racing across the desert, rarely pausing to gather his bearings and try and figure out just where he was.

He was certainly a long way from the region known as "Holland" and he was at least sixty years from his encounter with Centurion in the war-torn city of Arnhem. He could at least be thankful to Weller for having brought him back to life, something that would have taken thousands of years without the human's intervention. Now that he was well away from any threatening humans, Deadeye could try and gather information on the state of the human home-world and determine whether there were other Autobots like him on the planet.

Deadeye could still remember the near-dead fellow Autobot Jazz, half-buried in the desert sands by the human force lead by Colonel Weller. Those humans had stripped the Autobot of anything even slightly useful, leaving him a near skeleton that they had in turn discarded like junk. The sheer attitude these humans had towards his kind angered Deadeye although judging from what he could see in this town, not all humans were like this. Most probably weren't even aware of the existence of his kind, hinting that only some human factions were exploiting his race.

Deadeye made his way through some back alleys, staying out of sight as he worked his way to where his sensors were detecting the most amount of human vehicles.

Deadeye emerged into a large loading dock area where numerous trucks and exotic looking sports cars were parked, a few human workers in hard-hats and overalls driving some of these exotic vehicles onto the ramps that were on the trailers of the trucks. It seemed that there was a whole shipping operation in progress here, something that made sense since according to the map of the town Deadeye had located on the Internet he was right near a vehicle manufacturing factory.

He ducked back into the alley as a pair of humans wandered past, one holding a clipboard which he referred to every now and then. Deadeye managed to catch part of the conversation the humans were having, listening in to try and determine what was taking place here.

"…yeah, so we gotta ship this load out tomorrow morning," one of the humans said, "I mean, seriously, we're behind schedule as it is."

"We'll get it done," the other human replied as the pair walked by, "we always do."

Deadeye shifted his attention from the conversation to one of the exotic and brand new cars that were parked nearby. There was one in particular that caught his attention, parked in the corner and left mostly alone by the humans who were all scattered at the other side of the loading yard.

The car was low, red and very striking. In fact, it was the sort of vehicle Deadeye could see himself as and so he carefully approached it, using the metal containers stacked in places within the loading yard as cover to avoid being spotted by any of the humans. Once he was close to the vehicle he enacted a scan, making sure to get every inch of detail correct. It wasn't long before his features changed from that of the dirty, beaten armoured car to that of the red sports car. Deadeye himself stood tall with a wheel at each leg and two wheels at his chest, his armour plating having taken on the likeness of the red panelling on the sports car itself. A car door was at each shoulder while another two were at his sides.

Within seconds Deadeye reverted into his new vehicle mode, parking himself alongside the original car. This was just in the nick of time since the same pair of humans from before rounded into view from around the side of one of the car carrying trucks, stopping a short distance from where the Autobot had parked himself.

"Hang on," the human male with the clipboard said, managing a double-take at the two new and red sports cars, "I thought we only had one of these?"

"So what?" The other human replied, "We'll take both."

Deadeye listened carefully to what the humans were saying, figuring that his new disguise was working perfectly. He could lay low for a while as he scoured the human global network, trying to find any evidence of anyone else of his kind who were on this planet. If Jazz had been here then chances are there were other Autobots around.

"Where we taking these two then?" The human with the clipboard asked.

The other human removed a pair of car keys, approaching Deadeye's side and sticking the keys into the lock. He twisted and the door flung open (as it should). It was strange having a human _inside_ him but Deadeye didn't complain. Instead, he remained in his vehicle mode as the human proceeded to close the door and use the keys to start his engine.

"Tranquility, Nevada," the human seated in the driver's seat said, "apparently they're being given away in some competition. Some lucky asshole's going to win this very car."

"And yet I don't win shit," the other human complained.

Deadeye remained motionless, letting the human rev the engine a few times. Whatever they had planned for him it was certainly better then falling into the hands of Colonel Weller and the humans that worked for him. What they had done to Jazz was probably something they would have done to him if he hadn't of escaped.

In fact, Deadeye could see that things were only going to improve for him from here. Within seconds he had downloaded files from the Internet concerning the place known as "Tranquility, Nevada" and he read every piece of information concerning the town. It seemed like a nice enough place, one where very little seemed to happen…the perfect place to lay low for a while until he figured out whether he was the only Autobot on this planet or not.

Something told him that he wasn't alone, though.


	23. Pursuit

**Pursuit  
**The city of Groningen, Holland (the Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

The city of Groningen shared its name with the province it was located in. Where most of the province was countryside dotted with small villages and such, the city of Groningen was quite modern compared to the surrounding landscape. Old buildings were mixed in with the new while most streets were narrow and winding. The majority of the city's population got around by bicycle although cars were still in plentiful supply.

Groningen was a university city, a large section of its population being taken up with university students. Hence the nightlife on some nights was rather active and some nights it was quite the opposite. Tonight it was a quieter night although chances are things would pick up the later it got. It was only about six thirty in the evening now and the sun had only just recently set.

A convoy of exotic vehicles was making its way through the streets at the outskirts, roaring past somewhat surprised pedestrians as it went. Such a group of varying vehicles was a rarity in a small city like this so most pedestrians tended to watch the convoy roll by, taking note that the windows were tinted on each vehicles in such a way that it was impossible to see through them and get a glimpse at the occupants.

Above, a jet with a desert-brown camouflage pattern roared overhead. It had made numerous sweeps of the city in the last hour or so, reporting back any findings to the convoy that was arriving in the city on the ground below.

The lead vehicle of the convoy was a blue Peterbuilt truck with flame decals, otherwise known as Optimus Prime to a select few. He was followed by a few of the other Autobots who were all in their vehicle modes, with Sideswipe behind him and from there Chromia, Firestar and the Twins followed. Ratchet was back at the airfield, tending to a wounded Jolt and overseeing the task of loading Ironhide's remains aboard a cargo transport so they could be transported back to the United States along with the dead Decepticons who had been killed in the fighting earlier today.

Ironhide had been killed by Centurion, impaled on the insane Decepticon's spear. Not only that but Centurion had done something to Jolt that had sent the young Autobot into a near comatose state and, according to Ratchet, seemed to have some sort of foreign substance flowing through his system. Ratchet had determined that it was some sort of self-replicating nano-sized virus that Centurion had somehow introduced into Jolt's systems, although so far this was all speculation and Ratchet couldn't be too sure about this.

Major William Lennox was seated in the driver's seat within Optimus Prime's vehicle form. Master Sergeant Robert Epps sat next to him in the passenger seat and both men had said very little since they had departed for the city a short time ago. Most of the Autobots had been in the same mood since Ironhide's death, barely saying anything to one another. Losing an Autobot was always hard on everyone, especially since there were only a small amount of them left. Optimus had been quiet ever since this had happened which was strange considering he almost always had some sort of stirring speech available to raise the spirits of the remaining Autobots.

Today had been a long day and it still wasn't over. Not only had Holland come under attack by Decepticons but it seemed that both Megatron and Starscream had made a return. As well as this an even crazier, more evil Decepticon called Centurion was on the loose and he was near unstoppable thanks to some kind of energy shield that protected his body. Lennox and Epps had seen this Decepticon and had attempted to take him down, only to find out the hard way that nothing could stop Centurion. At least, nothing they knew about.

Now the few Autobots and a team of NEST soldiers had come into the city of Groningen in order to remove the two Decepticons that had infiltrated the city. They were probably scouts sent by Megatron in order to recon the area in preparation for the attack that had occurred today. NEST's mission was to remove all Decepticons from Earth and that included these two that had been detected hiding in the city. As well as these two Decepticons, there was the possibility that Centurion was somewhere in the city with these two Decepticons. However, standard reconnaissance by the Autobots always came up dry since there was always some sort of interference masking Centurion's location. So far they had restricted their area to search to where the interference had been detected but even so this was still a fairly large area.

Behind the convoy travelled two NEST SUVs, the sides unmarked with any distinct insignia in order to maintain secrecy. Both SUVs had rocket launchers mounted at the rear and each was manned by a soldier, giving the indication to any pedestrians that saw them that there was certainly some sort of big military operation occurring here.  
Due to the hurried nature of this part of the mission they were yet to come up with a plausible cover story. Lennox had decided that once they had finished up in the city they would have to think of something, perhaps sticking to the standard "chemical spill" or "terrorist attack" cover stories. They were always the easiest to report and make evidence to support, especially when in a foreign country that had no idea about the existence of the Cybertronian race.

Lennox wondered what the Dutch General Rutgers was doing now. They had made him sign a secrecy act in order to stop him from blabbing to the Dutch government and then they had left him to be picked up by a Dutch convoy that had been sent to check out the now destroyed military compound.

The brightly lit streets of Groningen flashed past as they drove along, passing shopfronts and old European buildings. Lennox yawned, gazing out his side's window as the effort he had expended today was finally beginning to catch up to him. He was tired but he knew that he couldn't do much about it: they still had a job to do and do it they shall.

The death of Ironhide had unsurprisingly sent both the Autobots and the NEST soldiers into a more sullen mood than usual. Ironhide had been a friend, even if he had been a big alien robot. Lennox had actually let the Autobot stay with him and his family in the last few years, an act that had supplied his family with a decent car and a friend as a result. Lennox was still trying to work out what could have possibly happened to have caused Ironhide to drop his guard and get killed…Jolt had been with him so why couldn't have the young Autobot done something to help him?

Part of Lennox blamed Jolt but then part of him knew that pinning the blame on someone else was always just a means of denial in the face of the facts. Ironhide was dead, that was the truth. He had probably been taken by surprise by Centurion and even if they had fought each other Ironhide would have stood little chance against a Decepticon that could not be harmed.

It annoyed Lennox immensely to think that nothing they had could stop Centurion. The only reason he was so special was that personal shield of his, the one that seemed to be able to soak up all sorts of punishment without letting any harm come to the Decepticon beneath. They still had to find some way to stop Centurion as well as finding out why he was here on Earth. If he was in cahoots with Megatron and Starscream then that would only spell bad news for both the Autobots and the human race in general. Usually when lead Decepticons were on Earth they had good reason to be, probably with some scheme to raise an army and destroy the Earth in the process.

This had been made evident the last few times the Decepticons had come to Earth, having started with the whole All-spark business and culminated in the battle at the Great Pyramid in Egypt. Whatever reason the Decepticons had to be here now couldn't have been a good thing, especially with an unstoppable foe like Centurion involved.

Lennox only wanted to deliver some payback to the Decepticons that had managed to kill some of his men and plenty of Dutch military forces. Delivering retribution to Centurion for the death of Ironhide would be difficult but Lennox was determined to do it, even if he knew that no weapon he had could possibly harm Centurion. Still, Lennox had with him an M4 rifle with attached grenade launcher intended for use when he encountered any Decepticons.

Such equipment was standard issue to all NEST personnel. Apparently there had been some sort of work going into the "rail gun" technology that had been used at the battle in Egypt last year, some sort of scheme to shrink the powerful technology down to portable size. It was apparently quite effective against Decepticons but unfortunately no progress with this scheme was being made. It was as if it had simply…stopped.

"Nice city," Epps said aloud absently, having been gazing through his side's window. Lennox looked at him, shrugging when his gaze met his friend's.

"Looks can be deceiving," Lennox commented in response. They all knew this fact too well. Groningen may have been a nice looking city but there were two, perhaps three Decepticons hiding out here somewhere and it was the job of the Autobots and humans in NEST to get rid of these enemies.

"Yeah, well…" Epps shrugged. "This is still a nice city, though. It's the sort of place you would come for a European holiday. Not that I've ever been on a holiday to Europe…not until now, although I wouldn't call why I'm here a 'holiday'."

Epps was obviously trying to engage in some small-talk in order to lift the silence that had taken up the inside of the truck's cabin for most of the trip. It seemed that nobody was in the mood to talk ever since Ironhide's death at the hands of Centurion. This was understandable but it was also a tad demoralizing to some when nobody was in the mood to talk.

"I know we've been having a tough day and all, but shouldn't we at least try and lift everybody's spirits a little?" Epps asked, sensing that Lennox was in a bad mood. "I don't like it when nobody's in the mood to talk. It's depressing."

Lennox shrugged, his mind concentrating on the task at hand. Epps could do all the small-talk he wanted, just as long as it didn't annoy the Major. Too much had happened today and it wasn't over, thus Lennox needed some time to think.

"I'm pissed off about what happened to Ironhide as well," Epps said, continuing regardless of whether Lennox cared enough to listen or not, "but trust me, we'll payback that Centurion bastard for what he did. I don't know how we'll do that but we'll figure something out. We always do."

Epps was right about the last part: no matter what happened they always managed to figure something out and pull through. This was probably one reason why NEST had lasted as long as it had despite the numerous times the odds had been stacked against them. Regardless, Lennox was still pondering his own thoughts on the matter than to care much for what Epps was saying.

Lennox had sensed that Optimus had been leaving a few facts out of the picture when it came to Centurion. This bothered the Major a fair bit but he hadn't been game enough to ask the Prime about it yet. There were still more important things to do than to discuss their latest encounter with the enemy, even if that enemy was apparently "unstoppable". Optimus had barely told them anything about Centurion except that he had been a rogue Decepticon and rival of Megatron. So far Lennox hadn't found out much more than that from anybody, including Optimus. When this mission was over he would have to ask Optimus about Centurion and try and find out what bothered the Autobot leader so much when it came to Centurion.

The last year had been without much action and a fair share of false alarms. The sheer reality of their situation now, with an all-out Decepticon attack and the loss of an Autobot had hit them all hard. Lennox was both angry and uncertain as to what had happened, still trying to determine the facts about Centurion. There was more to that Decepticon than they had originally suspected, much more.

High above the city, Breakaway flew overhead in his jet mode. He was the eyes of the group, running sensors scans across the city in an effort to locate the Decepticons that the team was after. He was yet to report back in with any findings although he did have a large area to cover so running scans would take some time. Finding anything useful from these scans would take even longer.

In the meanwhile, Optimus and the other Autobots as well as the NEST soldiers would patrol the streets. They would be constantly moving so that they would be prepared when the call came down from Breakaway to move out. It would be then that the mission would start proper. They could only hope that the ensuing fighting would be carried out in a way that would minimize collateral damage to the surrounding city and its population. The last thing they needed was a whole bunch of dead civilians and hundreds of thousands of dollars in property damage.

_This better not be another Shanghai,_ Lennox thought. That mission had been close to a disaster, with so many dead civilians and destroyed buildings that it was no wonder the Chinese government had been unable to believe the cover story that had been dreamt up by NEST.

Lennox's radio which was clipped to his left shoulder crackled into life. Breakaway's voice filtered through and immediately he and the rest of the group knew that the time to carry out the mission was at hand.

"_Strike Force Alpha, this is Breakaway,"_ Breakaway said, his voice hissing with some static, _"I've detected both Decepticons. Do you read me, over?"_

"This is Strike Force Alpha," Lennox replied, speaking for the whole team, "I read you."

"_Both targets are in vehicle modes and are moving through a street close to the Groninger Museum,"_ Breakaway said, _"they don't seem to know we're here."_

The Groninger Museum was the main museum within the city, located close to the city centre. Both Decepticons had probably changed into some sort of vehicle and were attempting to lay low, perhaps even spying on the behalf of either Megatron or Centurion. Of course, their reason for being here didn't mean anything. The fact that they were even here to begin with did matter. NEST's job was to get rid of all the Decepticons off of Earth and this was what they were going to do tonight.

"We hear you, Breakaway," Lennox said, "Anything else we should know about?"

"_Now that you ask, I have detected the same sort of interference that Centurion was being masked by earlier today. It seems to be coming from the north-eastern section of the city, although I can't be sure."_

It seemed that Centurion was in the city as well. Three targets in the one place: that would undoubtedly save NEST a lot of trouble.

"You stay up high Breakaway and keep watch on us from above," Lennox ordered, "don't go playing hero. Is that understood?"

"_Understood, Major,"_ Breakaway replied, sounding a little disappointed but otherwise he was as confident as always.

The radio switched off and Lennox hefted up his M4 rifle, slapping a fresh magazine into it and clicking the slider back. Epps was readying his rifle as well in preparation for the coming fight, the faces of both men crossed with grim determination.

"You hear that, Optimus?" Lennox said, feeling a little odd to be talking to the very truck he was seated inside, "Breakaway's got both Decepticons on his scanners. That means we're moving out."

"I heard it, Major," Optimus replied, his voice coming from the radio at the dashboard. The Autobot's speed suitably picked up, the others behind them following suit as the convoy of exotic vehicles started speeding through the narrow streets of the Dutch city. Soon the whole convoy was perhaps going a little over the speed limit, the roar of the engines of their vehicles causing many civilians on the streets to stop and watch them rumble past.

Lennox sat with his gaze out of the side window, rifle held across his lap as Optimus' truck form bumped along the old cobblestone streets. They skidded at some of the sharper corners while they sped along the straighter roads, all of the Autobots heading for the location that Breakaway had specified. It wasn't long before they could detect the Decepticons as well, both of which seemed to be parked in a courtyard near the museum.

"Ain't we going a little fast?" Epps asked, frowning, "I mean, the last thing we need is to get pulled over by the cops."

"Speed is vital, Sergeant," Optimus replied, his voice filtering through the radio at the dashboard, "there is a very good chance that both Decepticons will detect our approach. Thus, we must carry out the task of eliminating them with as much speed and efficiency as possible."

Epps simply nodded, although he hadn't been expecting a response to his question concerning the possibility of being pulled over by the local police department. Lennox simply smiled, the first time since Ironhide had been killed earlier today.

The convoy of vehicles sped onto a main street, one that ran by a large park and courtyard area as well as the museum itself. The museum was a large, modern building consisting of several large metal and brick boxes. It was obviously one of the more recently constructed buildings in the old city, contrasting to the older stone buildings that were typical of this region in Europe. A park reserve was nearby while the car-park out front was close to full.

The convoy pulled up outside the museum and Lennox winded down his side's window, his gaze moving across the front of the museum. Numerous civilians were walking by outside and heading either in or out of the museum. Some had stopped to look at the convoy that had just arrived, taking note of the two military vehicles tailing behind it.

It occurred to Lennox that they wouldn't be able to do much without getting the attention of a heck of a lot of civilians. His gaze shifted to the car park, his suspicions directed there as two distinct looking cars suddenly pulled out of their respective parking spots and sped out onto the street.

Immediately the Autobots were on the move, Lennox being pushed back into his seat by Optimus' sudden acceleration. The two cars ahead headed into different directions but Optimus stayed behind the dark Mercedes which started across the courtyard, causing people to jump out of the way as it went smashing through chairs and tables.

"Sideswipe, you're with me!" Optimus shouted, "Everybody else, stick with the other Decepticon! We can't let either of them escape!"

Sideswipe rolled up behind Optimus as the pair of vehicles sped in the wake of the fleeing Mercedes. Lennox felt it was safe to assume that the Mercedes they were chasing was a Decepticon, made evident by the careless driving it was carrying out as it went speeding through the courtyard, almost running people over as it went.

"Here we go!" Epps exclaimed, sounding excited, "a car chase! Awesome!"

Lennox ignored him, instead trying to keep in his seat as Optimus floored it across the cobble-stone courtyard. The Mercedes up ahead bowled over a few civilians, sending their stunned bodies flying a fair distance from the sheer speed that the Mercedes had been travelling. It seemed that getting rid of both Decepticons without causing any collateral damage would be a pretty difficult task. There were just too many damn civilians out here, for a start.

Optimus did his best to steer clear of any civilians, most of whom were only just recovering from their near scrape with the fleeing Mercedes. Some of the civilians yelled and swore at the speeding vehicles in Dutch while others were already on their mobile phones. Lennox figured they were calling the police.

The Mercedes skidded at a corner up ahead, swerving into a side-street to the right. Optimus had to use the handbrake to successfully carry out this turn, sending both Lennox and Epps lurching in the opposite direction where they sat. Sideswipe stayed close behind them, trying to get close but finding that the streets were simply to narrow to allow him to get past Optimus who was in front of him.

Lennox recovered from having been bumped around and hefted up his rifle. He saw that they were speeding down a reasonably straight section of modern tarmac road, zooming past shopfronts and apartment buildings. Up ahead Lennox watched as a pair of men in tradesmen overalls crossed the street, holding between them a large pane of glass. He had a feeling about what would happen next.

The Mercedes simply kept speeding, regardless of the fact of the two men heading across the street. Both men only saw the Mercedes coming at them at the last moment and even then they could do very little. The Mercedes collided with the glass and the workers, the glass smashing into hundreds of pieces. One of the workers slammed into the Mercedes' windscreen, leaving a smear of blood on the strangely undamaged window as he went rolling across the top of the car, hitting the road with a sickening _thud!_

Optimus swerved out of the way of the fallen worker as did Sideswipe, keeping on the tail of the fleeing Decepticon. By now they were all going fast enough that the buildings on either side of them went by in a hurried blur of shades of grey, brown and blurred bright lights. Lennox could tell that the Decepticon was probably desperate otherwise it would have engaged them in robot mode by now. Perhaps it was trying to escape the city, thinking that the countryside would make it easier to lose his pursuers? Whatever the reason the chase was going on long enough and little progress had been made in eliminating the Decepticon.

One of the NEST SUVs pulled onto the street up ahead, having come out of a nearby side-street. The soldier manning the rocket launcher swivelled it around, pointing it towards the oncoming Mercedes. However, the Mercedes didn't stop and simply continued to go faster, perhaps trying to get all the speed it could out of the straining engine.

Lennox and Epps watched as the soldier manning the SUV's rocket launcher fired, the rocket zooming through the air and down the street as it left behind a white smoking contrail. The rocket slammed into the road close to the Mercedes, sending up bits of tarmac in a fireball that scared some nearby civilians enough to cause them to run away and scream in panic.

Still the Mercedes kept coming and there was no evidence of it stopping. The soldier manning the launcher fired again and this time the rocket slammed into the front of the oncoming Mercedes. The explosion smashed the windscreen and left a smoking hole in the front. However, the Mercedes kept on coming and was only seconds away from impact with the SUV.

The soldiers in the SUV saw that they were probably best off out of the Decepticon's way. The SUV began to reverse back into the side-street it had come from but was far too slow.

The Mercedes unfolded from itself as it sped down the road, rising into full robot form as a somewhat nimble-looking Decepticon, the car doors at its shoulders and sides while the wheels rested at its legs. The Decepticon's right arm was taken up by a long, razor sharp sword which it raised high above its head. The Decepticon's forward momentum sent it skidding along the tarmac, etching a trail into the road behind it. Within seconds it was at the NEST SUV and it brought its sword down, cleaving the vehicle clean in two. However, it wasn't finished there: an energy cannon unfolded itself from its left forearm within the space of a few seconds and it used the cannon to blast the SUV as the Decepticon jumped over it, still being carried by its momentum that it had gathered from its vehicle form.

The SUV erupted into a blue-white flash of flame, its flaming wreckage being sent flying backwards by the force of the blast. The SUV's flaming wreck slammed into a shopfront nearby, smashing windows and knocking over a few civilians in the process.

Optimus and Sideswipe kept in their vehicle modes as they continued chasing the fleeing Decepticon. By now the Decepticon had turned around, its energy cannon firing. Pedestrians started running as blasts of energy slammed into nearby buildings, blowing chunks out of them and vaporizing a few of the more unlucky citizens.

Lennox leaned out of the window as Optimus kept accelerating towards the Decepticon up ahead. The Major carefully raised his rifle, taking aim as he pulled the trigger at the rifle's grenade launcher. The grenade lobbed forth from the launcher, slamming into the Decepticon's front. The Decepticon stumbled, taken off guard momentarily.

"Great shot, Lennox!" Epps exclaimed.

Lennox pulled himself back into the vehicle, pulling another grenade for his rifle's launcher from his belt. He carefully loaded it inside just as Optimus went speeding past the stunned Decepticon. Both Lennox and Epps were lurched to one side as Optimus hit the handbrake and went skidding to an abrupt halt about fifteen metres from where the Decepticon was standing in the street.

Sideswipe erupted forth from his vehicle mode, setting upon the Decepticon immediately. Ratchet had managed to repair the sword at the Autobot's right arm after he had lost both in the fight with Centurion earlier today. Sideswipe, always having been one for close combat, put his one sword to use as it brought it around and send it cutting right across the Decepticon's front.

By now the nearby civilians had started running away from the scene of the fight, most panicking at the sight of the two robots fighting in the street. However, the fight was short lived since Sideswipe, having stunned the Decepticon from the first blow finished off his opponent by thrusting the sword straight through the Decepticon's chest.

With his opponent impaled on his sword Sideswipe brought the blade straight up, cutting right through the Decepticon with ease. He split the Decepticon's head in two, pushing his now dead opponent away with his other arm. The Decepticon stumbled backwards a few paces, a surprised look on its metallic features before it simply fell flat onto the ground.

Lennox and Epps were still seated within Optimus' vehicle mode, having watched Sideswipe finish off the Decepticon with relative ease. Before any of them could say anything about the fight and celebrate its result Lennox's radio crackled into life.

"_Major Lennox, this is Chromia,"_ a familiar female voice said over the radio, _"we've managed to kill our target and we're ready to regroup. What about you?"_

Lennox looked towards the fallen Decepticon whose head had been cut up through the middle. It was safe to assume that this particular Decepticon wouldn't be able to bother anybody anymore. Still, collateral damage from what Lennox had seen was close to unacceptable amounts. No doubt the Secretary of Defence would be annoyed when he read their reports.

Still, some retribution had been delivered. There was still the case of Centurion though who was still at large in the city somewhere. Lennox wouldn't be at ease until Centurion was dead, no matter how long that took to achieve.

"Our target is down, Chromia," Lennox said, realizing that the clean-up teams would have their work cut out for them after the mess that had been made here.

"That was a hell of a chase," Epps commented.

There was a beep from the Major's radio, alerting him to the fact that someone else was trying to get through. Lennox frowned, surprised to hear this but he otherwise closed the link with Chromia for now and switched it over to the other incoming signal.

"_This is Breakaway. I've managed to locate Centurion…"_ Breakaway sounded worried and as a result Lennox felt uneasy. However, the fact about having located Centurion had raised the Major's interest considerably.

"Where is he?" Lennox asked. Optimus was the one to reply, his voice filtering through his vehicle mode's radio in the dashboard.

"Tell Breakaway that he's to regroup with us immediately," Optimus interjected, his voice grave.

Lennox was about to pass this message onto Breakaway but something told him that Breakaway was already in the process of playing hero.

"_He's in the north of the city, at a factory area,"_ Breakaway said, _"I'm going to engage him…Just make sure you guys aren't late in coming to help."  
_Lennox frowned. From what Optimus had told him about Breakaway it seemed that the Autobot had once been used as a spy in Centurion's army. It would be understandable that Breakaway had issues with the Decepticon but taking him on without backup was a sure fire way to get himself killed.

Optimus' voice erupted across the radio, serious and authoritative. Lennox could tell that Optimus wasn't at all pleased by Breakaway's course of action.

"Breakaway, regroup with us _now_," Optimus barked, "that is an order!"

"_No can do, old friend,"_ Breakaway replied, sounding a bit sheepish, _"I've got the Decepticon bastard in my sights. I'm going to see how he likes 'Death from Above'." _A laugh followed before Breakaway's voice was gone.

"What the hell is he doing?" Epps asked, surprised, "He's going to get himself killed…"

Lennox could only agree with this statement. Breakaway was jeopardizing his own life and the success of this mission because of his gung-ho attitude. The only option they had left now was to head to the north of the city and try and find him before he got himself killed.

"Optimus," Lennox said, his vision darting to the radio in the dashboard, "what do you suggest we do?"

There was a brief silence as the Autobot leader considered their choices. Breakaway was going to be in definite trouble, regardless of whether he got himself killed or not.

Lennox hadn't figured that Breakaway would be the stupid type but he realized that he knew hardly anything about the feuds that some of these robots had against one another. He had hoped he wouldn't need to worry about any personal vendettas cropping up amongst the Autobots but obviously he had been mistaken in this regard.

"We'll go and help Breakaway," Optimus replied, choosing his words carefully. His voice was grave, as if he was trying to figure out what was worse: Breakaway's gung-ho attitude or the fact that they were about to all head off and take on Centurion.

Lennox acknowledged this suggestion with a nod, figuring that the day wasn't quite over yet. It seemed that it had become one thing after another, ever since they had come to Holland to investigate the apparent Decepticon sighting. Now they were about to save Breakaway's metal hide just because his gung-ho attitude had gotten the better of him.

_All in a day's work,_ Lennox thought. Still, he wanted to get some sort of revenge on Centurion for Ironhide's death. It seemed he was close to getting that chance, even if he knew that taking down a seemingly unstoppable Decepticon would be a very hard thing to do.


	24. Gung Ho

**Gung-ho  
**The city of Groningen, Holland (the Netherlands)  
December 14th, 2010

Flying high above the city of Groningen was Breakaway in his vehicle mode of an F-35 fighter jet. Compared to the other Autobots, Breakaway had an unmatched speed while flying in a straight line and thus made an excellent reconnaissance gatherer. He wasn't too pleased with being in this position, having always preferred the frontlines on the ground than being on recon in the air.

However, he knew that there was less chance of him getting into any sort of trouble while airborne. Still, he felt somewhat left out from the action occurring on the ground and was eventually trying to work out just where Centurion was, attempting to get his sensors to work through the interference they were getting. He wanted to payback Centurion for all that had happened back on Cybertron years before, for everything the Decepticon had made him do while Breakaway had been working as a spy within the Decepticon ranks…with Centurion dead Breakaway knew he might actually be able to put his mind at rest from the atrocities he had helped to commit.

Down below was Groningen, a city that was a mix of old and new architecture. Currently it was brightly lit by streetlights and such, with cars and buses driving along the narrow winding streets. On Breakaway's sensors he had detected both Decepticons who were now fleeing from the Autobots and the NEST soldiers. As far as he could tell two separate chases had begun, with Optimus and Sideswipe heading after one while the Twins, Chromia and Firestar went after the other. Now Breakaway was stuck flying around up here with little to do so he started to try and track Centurion, receiving considerable interference from a wide area amongst some factories in the north of the city.

His sensors struggled to make sense of the interference but he knew that Centurion was down there somewhere. All Breakaway had to do was concentrate and attempt to find Centurion's life-spark reading through the interfering haze that masked it. Breakaway was probably in the best position to do such a thing, flying up high with the best view of the city compared to the ones the other Autobots had. He enjoyed flying, even if it could get a little dull sometimes.

He had only arrived on Earth yesterday but was already helping to eradicate some Decepticons, hinting that he had arrived at just the right time. Apparently NEST hadn't seen action for about a year but as soon as Breakaway had arrived a whole load of Decepticons appear from nowhere, including Centurion. Breakaway had always had the feeling that bad luck seemed to follow him, a feeling he had developed over his time on Cybertron during the war. If a certain group of Autobots hadn't come under attack for a while that would change as soon as Breakaway showed up. Some Autobots even thought he was cursed in some way, although that sort of thing was just nonsense…at least, he hoped it was.

Breakaway flew in a circle around the outskirts of the city, keeping an eye on the progress of both pursuits of the Decepticons. Optimus and Sideswipe seemed to still be on one Decepticon's tail, having not yet engaged it in robot modes. Such an act would undoubtedly get the attention of a lot of civilians but sometimes it was necessary according to what the humans in NEST had said, especially Major Lennox. Exposing their robot modes to the unsuspecting public was apparently necessary in most cases in order to protect the aforementioned unsuspecting public. Besides, Lennox had assured them that there was always a means of covering up what happened and thus protecting the secrecy of NEST.

Breakaway took his attention off of both Decepticon pursuits occurring in the city below, turning his attention to the haze of interference that was centred around the factories in the north of the city. He found that it was near impossible for his sensors to get any exact readings within that area but still he tried, doing his best in order to locate Centurion. He wasn't sure what he would do when he did find the rogue Decepticon but he did have a good idea on what he would do.

Apparently Centurion had become near unstoppable. Breakaway was sceptical about this, even if Optimus had been the one to tell him. How could any Decepticon be "unstoppable"? Everybody could be killed; it was a fact of life. Still, they were talking about Centurion and he had been absent for over sixty Earth years (or "solar cycles" as the Cybertronians preferred to call them) and anything could have happened during that time. He had a reason for being on Earth but so far none of the Autobots knew that reason. Breakaway was quite willing to head down to the city and confront Centurion once he worked out where the Decepticon was.

Breakaway knew Centurion well from the war on Cybertron. Early on Centurion had been somewhat reserved, a careful planner and definitely someone who preferred to take their time. He had quite the opposite ideas compared to Megatron's brash and strong-arm tactics. Of course, this had been before Centurion had become consumed in the experiments with a strange energy source he was attempting to harness, being driven mad by them and quite power hungry. Apparently Centurion had been stuck in some sort of inter-dimensional "void" for about a hundred thousand years and some said that this was where he had started going mad. No one was sure exactly and many cared little for the rogue Decepticon, having been far more worried about Megatron and the Decepticons that served under him. Centurion had been a mere sidenote in the war but an important sidenote nonetheless, one that Breakaway had willingly worked underneath in order to gather information for the Autobots as well as pass false information to Centurion's Decepticon forces.

Breakaway had saved countless lives with his actions as a spy…but he had also been responsible for the deaths of many more. It had all been part of his position as a trusted soldier who served underneath Centurion but it still weighed heavily on the Autobot's mind, all that Centurion had made him do. Killing unarmed prisoners, destroying buildings containing hundreds of innocent Cybertronians…Breakaway had always told himself that it had been part of his position as a spy but there were times when he really did feel like a Decepticon.

Now was his chance to get rid of Centurion once and for all. He wasn't about to let a chance like this slip from his grasp so Breakaway continued to fly scanning sweeps over the north of the city, trying to work his way through the haze of interference in order to find Centurion. It wasn't easy but it was certainly possible, all Breakaway needed was time.

It took him another five minutes to get a faint but definite reading on Centurion. The Decepticon was in the grounds of a factory, busy broadcasting some message that was on a high frequency. Still Breakaway recorded it, figuring that it sounded like some sort of invitation, much like the one Optimus had sent out into space…except Centurion's message was aimed at Decepticons.

The thought occurred to Breakaway: should he alert Optimus and the others? No doubt they would want him to regroup rather than take on Centurion but something told him that they would have no choice but to help him if he went down to the factory and confronted the rogue Decepticon.

He opened a radio link to Lennox and the others who were done on the ground. It was only sensible to alert them to his find rather than leave them in the dark about it. He knew that they would be somewhat unwilling to have him go off and confront Centurion but Breakaway was already planning to do it anyway.

"This is Breakaway," Breakaway said, having made contact with Major Lennox, "I've managed to locate Centurion…"

Lennox's voice came back with some noticeable determination edging it, as if he was satisfied with the news. Apparently Ironhide had been quite a close friend of Lennox…it only made sense that Lennox wanted to deliver some retribution for Centurion's killing of Ironhide. Breakaway had felt somewhat angered at this occurrence as well, having known Ironhide as a friend during the war back on Cybertron.

"_Where is he?"_ Lennox asked, his voice tinged with static.

Breakaway rechecked his sensors to see if Centurion had moved or not. Fortunately the Decepticon was still in the one place, barely moving as he broadcasted some sort of invitation out into space. As Breakaway listened to the words in that message, all of which were in the Decepticon language, a few names that Centurion mentioned struck the Autobot as familiar. Prometheus, Warmonger…and Unicron. There was something about what Centurion said about this "Unicron", about "bringing him into this world" but that was about the extent of the information Centurion gave away. Still, it made Breakaway a little uneasy.

"He's in the north of the city, at a factory area," Breakaway replied whilst turning around to make another flyover of the area. This was when he made his decision on what he would do, regardless of what the others might have told him. He had a chance to take on Centurion and he wasn't about to let it slip away. Once Centurion was down he might actually be able to forgive himself for all the Decepticon had made him do during the war.

"I'm going to engage him," Breakaway said, determination creeping into his voice, "just make sure you guys aren't late in coming to help."

He knew they would have to help him if he went on to confront Centurion. Sure, he might get a bit of a talking-to once the mission was over but that was nothing. He was used to bringing the wrath of his superiors down onto him.

Optimus was the one to reply, his voice coming as stern and serious. The Prime sounded a little annoyed at Breakaway's decision as well although there was a hint of resignation in what he said, as if he knew that Breakaway wouldn't listen to him.

"_Breakaway, regroup with us now,"_ Optimus ordered, _"that is an order!"_

Breakaway took a moment to reply. He was going to confront Centurion, regardless of what Optimus said. It didn't matter if he was disobeying orders since Breakaway believed that what he was doing was the right thing to do and nobody could change his mind about it.

"No can do, old friend," Breakaway replied.

He saw Centurion standing in the grounds of one of the factories, taking cover near some fuel tanks. Centurion had since taken on his original Cybertronian form, having lost the elements of the German Panzer tank he had once changed into. Now he stood tall with grey and black armour plating, his red eyes standing out the most. He was standing still in order to send the signal out into space while his personal shield flickered, as if the power source that was fuelling it was beginning to fail. He didn't seem to notice the incoming fighter jet nor did he notice that it was in fact Breakaway in vehicle form.

Breakaway set his sights on the Decepticon, relishing the thought of delivering some good old fashioned vengeance on Centurion. He armed the missiles that came with his jet form, making sure that Centurion was within the targeting cursor that appeared on the Autobot's heads-up display.

"I've got the Decepticon bastard in my sights. I'm going to see how he likes 'Death from Above'." Breakaway laughed before ending the radio link, barely interested in what the others had to say in response. By now he had been overcome with the thought of revenge, even if personal vendettas were somewhat looked down upon in the war against the Decepticons.

Centurion saw Breakaway coming at the last minute. Still, Breakaway came roaring down over the factory, firing away a salvo of six missiles which went zooming through the air towards the Decepticon. Three of them slammed into Centurion's front, making his stumble backwards as they erupted into flame and smoke on his body. The other three missed, slamming into the fuel tanks nearby.

The night was suddenly lit up by the flare of about twelve large fuel tanks igniting simultaneously. The flash momentarily blinded Breakaway but his vision soon recovered, allowing him to watch as a large column of flame plumed up high. Pieces of hot flaming metal came raining down around the somewhat grungy looking grounds of the natural gas power plant while a thick column of smoke started to waft off into the night sky. In all it was perhaps the most amazing sight that Breakaway had witnessed today, even if he had just caused a few hundred thousand dollars worth in property damage.

Another fuel tank ignited and the pipes that snaked around the main building began to break open as flames shot through them. Valves shot off, hissing gas as the flames continued on their way through the whole network of pipelines.

Within seconds the whole network detonated, flames shooting forth and shards of hot smoking metal went flying. An eerie, yellow flickering glow fell upon the grounds of the refinery as numerous fires burned brightly while metallic clanking sounds rang out as fragments of metal hit the concrete. By now alarms within the natural gas power plant were blaring but these were the least of Breakaway's concern.

Breakaway uncompacted himself from his jet form, landing with a dull _thump_ on the concrete. It cracked slightly beneath him, his arrival met with a look of partly surprise and satisfaction which crossed Centurion's features. The Decepticon stood only a short distance ahead, having recovered from the few missiles that had impacted him. His shield flickered but was still absorbing damage for him, the missiles that had hit him having done nothing but annoy Centurion.

The fires burned around them while human workers came racing outside from the power plant's structures, some with fire extinguishers while one group ran to a fire hose box in order to use it to put out the raging inferno. However, when they saw the two tall robots standing in the grounds of the power plant some of them stood and watched while others turned around and began to run.

Both robots ignored the humans and simply concentrated on one another. Breakaway had brought out his sword, its jagged but razor sharp blade glinting in the flickering but bright yellow glow of the raging fires. Centurion wasn't at all fazed by the Autobot's arrival. Rather, the Decepticon managed the metallic equivalent of a smile as he recognized the Autobot standing ahead of him. He seemed pleased to see Breakaway, as if he had been expecting him,

"I should have known to expect you, Breakaway," Centurion said, his voice laced with menace, "it's only fitting we meet each other like this. It's been a while, hasn't it Breakaway?"  
Breakaway simply kept his eyes fixed on the Decepticon, his mind going into overtime as he tried to work out the best way to approach the situation. No doubt Centurion was the type who would be more talkative than anything else, especially since he and Breakaway had a past.

"Breakaway, the Autobot traitor," Centurion said, more as a statement than anything else, "of course, that's a lie, is it not? You're no traitor, Breakaway. When you first arrived within my forces back on Cybertron I had had my doubts. You did well to give the impression that you were serious in working beneath me. I have to say, I fell for it entirely…"

"What are you doing on Earth, Centurion?" Breakaway asked, already tired of the Decepticon's ranting. Centurion was probably crazier than Breakaway had last seen him, the Decepticon's red eyes showing a madness that could only have developed over a long period of time. Centurion had been around for a long time, this much was evident.

Centurion laughed rather loudly, the laugh itself tinged with malevolence. He eyed Breakaway somewhat casually, as if the Autobot's presence did little to faze him.

"And why do you want to know, Breakaway?" Centurion asked, although it sounded more like a rhetorical question than a proper one. "You have no reason to care about this planet. From what I've heard, you only just got here. And yet you're already deep into this Autobot act of 'protecting the human race'. Why, Breakaway? Why do you care about the humans? They are pathetic little creatures, barely advanced and barely intelligent."

Breakaway knew the answers to these questions. Sure, the humans weren't much but it was part of his duty to help his fellow Autobots protect them from Decepticons like Centurion. It was an act of redeeming himself for all that he had done while a spy within Centurion's forces.

"You and I, we would make an excellent pair," Centurion said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "we would be able to rule this world together, Breakaway! The humans are nothing…they can't stop us. They can't stop any of us."  
Breakaway wasn't in much of a mood to hear Centurion's attempts at converting him to his cause. It was a typical Centurion move and surprisingly enough it had worked enough times in the past, although some would say that Centurion had a very specific means of gaining loyal followers. Some might even say he had powers, powers that only he knew of.

"What are you doing out here, Centurion?" Breakaway demanded, "Do you have a reason for being on Earth? Or are you just here to enslave the humans? Because if you are, I'm not going to let you…"

Centurion laughed again and this only helped to add to Breakaway's overall dislike of him. Centurion seemed to find the Autobot's determination amusing, as if it wasn't convincing at all. Breakaway was sincere in what he was saying, though. Centurion just couldn't take him seriously, an indication that the Decepticon really did think of himself as unstoppable.

"I was just sending a message, that's all," Centurion replied, "I'm trying to call some old friends of mine…"

"Prometheus and Warmonger?" Breakaway asked remembering the message he had intercepted. "That can't be why you came to Earth, though…"

"It isn't the real reason, so you are correct in that regards, Breakaway," Centurion said, pausing to think about this for a moment. He glanced over at the raging inferno that was threatening to consume the natural gas power plant and then turned back to Breakaway, looking as if the fire excited him a little.

"So why are you here then?" Breakaway repeated. Centurion was only just going to further taunt him if he didn't show that he meant business. However, Centurion wasn't easily convinced of a threat since he genuinely thought that no one could stop him. Breakaway, on the other hand, couldn't really fathom how the one Decepticon could be "unstoppable".

"I am here with the purpose of returning Unicron from his outer-dimensional prison," Centurion replied rather matter-of-factly, "although that is a rather simplified version of why I'm here."

Unicron: this was one name that Breakaway had heard a few times today. First a dazed Jolt had returned with a dead Ironhide in tow, muttering to himself about this Unicron figure. Then Breakaway had heard it in the message Centurion had been sending out into space, having figured that it was part of the reason why the Decepticon was here. Now Centurion had verified this fact and yet Breakaway was still uncertain as to who this "Unicron" actually was.

"Who's Unicron?" Breakaway asked, his mind bringing up memories of stories told by old Cybertronians. According to the legends, Unicron had been some sort of planet devouring monster although this was all Breakaway really knew. He could barely remember the stories the older Cybertronians had told him since those faded memories were from his younger protoforms days.

Centurion smiled when he heard the question, taking a step towards Breakaway. Immediately Breakaway held up his sword in a threatening manner but he could see that Centurion wasn't readying to attack him. Rather, the Decepticon had one hand reaching out towards him, closing to the Autobot's face…

"Let me show you, Breakaway," Centurion said, the pair now face-to-face. Centurion's red eyes met with Breakaway's blue ones and for a moment the Autobot found himself lost in the madness that burned within them.

Breakaway shook himself out of his stupor, realizing that Centurion's right hand was only inches from making contact with his face. Breakaway remembered why he had come here to confront Centurion, having had revenge in mind before he had been caught up with the ramblings of this lunatic Decepticon. In one fluid movement Breakaway brought his sword against Centurion's outstretched arm, expecting to cleave right through it. However, the personal shield of the Decepticon flared into life and the sword hit a seemingly impenetrable barrier, one that burned away at the blade as it simply melted the metal. Breakaway withdrew the partially melted sword, gaping at it with some surprise. His eyes then went to Centurion who had taken a step back, laughing heartily and loudly.

"You think that a mere blade can stop me, Breakaway?" Centurion asked, his voice having taken on a menacing tone. Breakaway realized that he was in some trouble now, especially since he had seemed to piss off Centurion. Centurion ceased laughing, glaring coldly towards the Autobot.

Breakaway had started to back away slowly, even if he didn't realize it. He was about to bring out his chain gun but Centurion interrupted him before he had a chance to, grabbing Breakaway by the neck and hoisting the Autobot a few feet off of the ground with relative ease.

Breakaway felt the shield burn away at his neck, causing him to emit a pained metallic groan. He could feel Centurion's grip tightening, the Decepticon with the obvious intention of snapping Breakaway's head clean off. Breakaway tried to break free of the searing burning grip but he found that it was near impossible to do this since Centurion simply batted away Breakaway's arms with surprising ease.

Without warning Centurion hurled Breakaway towards one of the nearest structures. The Autobot slammed into the small gatehouse that was located near the power plant's main gate, the building collapsing under his weight. Sheets of metal and chunks of plaster fell down around him while a few human workers went running by, scared out of their wits.

Breakaway lay dazed amongst the rubble for a moment, watching as Centurion approached. Centurion looked awfully annoyed now, as if he was intent on finishing Breakaway off. This was most likely the case so the Autobot tried to shake himself out of his current dazed state. However, before Breakaway could get up Centurion was upon him and the Decepticon had grabbed him by the neck again, hoisting him back onto his feet.

Breakaway's gaze met Centurion's once again. This time Centurion looked completely unforgiving, even as he delivered a painful right hook right across Breakaway's face. The force of the blow sent Breakaway flying a fair distance, the Autobot landing amongst the burning hulks of a few destroyed fuel tanks. A few of the human workers that had been watching the confrontation had to jump out of the way of the Autobot as he came sliding to a halt amongst the flaming hulks, this close shave enough to send the humans fleeing.

"You can't stop me, Breakaway!" Centurion yelled, almost crazily as he started towards the fallen Autobot, "I am unstoppable! I have a God on my side, Breakaway! _A God!_"

Centurion laughed, stopping a short distance from where Breakaway lay amongst the flaming hulks. Breakaway tried to roll away from Centurion but his opponent was too fast, simply grabbing the Autobot by the neck once more.

"I want to show you, Breakaway," Centurion said, his voice low, "I want to show you the things Unicron taught me. Maybe then you'll change your mind about joining my cause…" His right hand was nearing Breakaway's face, as if he was intent on grasping the Autobot's features. Why he wanted to do this was beyond Breakaway's knowledge but he certainly didn't want to stand still and find out. By now the grip Centurion's left hand had at his neck was beginning to burn into him as the personal shield that flowed across Centurion's frame ate away at Breakaway's metal hide.

Suddenly Centurion's hand was at Breakaway's face, several narrow blue tendrils already snaking their way across the Autobot's face. They burned as they went, making their way into his mouth and past his eyes, heading into his eye sockets. Breakaway let out a horrified shout, only for Centurion to abruptly withdraw the tendrils and turn around, pulling Breakaway in front of him.

Standing ahead of them now was Optimus Prime, as well as Sideswipe and the Twins. All four Autobots stood in their robot modes, weapons drawn and aimed towards the Decepticon. Breakaway was still dazed from his close call with Centurion's tendrils but he did manage to look at Optimus, trying his best to look apologetic for the obvious trouble he had caused.

Standing near the Autobots were Major Lennox, Master Sergeant Epps, Captain Graham and two other NEST soldiers. All of them had their rifles trained on Centurion, even if they knew what little effect the weapons had against him.

Centurion barely faltered, simply giving a metallic smile as he saw the recently arrived Autobots. Behind him the inferno blazed, the flames high and the smoke thick. He stood against the fires like something out of a nightmare while he kept Breakaway in a headlock. By now his shield was eating into Breakaway's figure in a rather painful fashion. Breakaway struggled against it but found that the Decepticon was simply to strong for him.

"Ah, Optimus Prime," Centurion said, "you've come to save your friend here. Shame, I had so much planned for him…"

"Let him go, Centurion," Optimus said, his tone stern, "you will gain nothing from killing him."

"Oh, Optimus, Breakaway and I were just playing around," Centurion said. Suddenly a glistening razor sharp sword shot forth from his right wrist and he pressed the blade against Breakaway's neck with the obvious intention of cutting off the Autobot's head.

Breakaway tried his best to remain still, realizing that the slightest movement would only give Centurion an excuse to kill him. However, the burning that Centurion's shield was causing was growing more and more uncomfortable for the Autobot and he couldn't help but writhe around in pain. He could feel Centurion's shield eating away at parts of his chest, a feeling not at all pleasant.

Optimus gazed at the hostage Breakaway, giving the situation some thought. It was obvious he still had something against Breakaway for having disobeyed orders earlier but this was overshadowed by the current situation the Autobot was in.

"I don't like this guy," Skids commented from where he stood to Breakaway's left, "I say we just pop a cap in his ass…"

"Do anything and I'll cut off Breakaway's head," Centurion threatened, pressing the blade harder against Breakaway's neck. The Autobot shifted uneasily, trying his best to remain calm in this situation.

"Tell me Centurion, why are you here, on Earth?" Optimus asked. Breakaway could tell that the Autobot leader was only trying to stall for time, still trying to figure out a way to free him.

"Why? Why do I have to tell everyone?!" Centurion sounded annoyed, realizing that he was having to tell everybody his plans. "I told Breakaway so maybe he can tell you…"

"Screw you," Skids interjected in a rather blunt manner, bringing up his right arm cannon and firing. The shot slammed right into Centurion's face, causing the Decepticon's shield to flare as he stumbled backwards slightly.

Breakaway seized his chance breaking free of Centurion's grip and swivelling around to face the Decepticon. Already he could see that some of the strange blue residue had congealed on parts of his chest and neck, where Centurion had been touching him. It was somewhat unnerving to think that it was capable of burning through him with ease if he even so much as touched the residue.

Centurion had recovered within seconds but by now all of the Autobots had opened fire, as well as Lennox and the other NEST soldiers with them. A hail of rockets, energy blasts and bullets slammed into Centurion, causing him to stumble backwards as the force of the shots made his balance unsteady. Breakaway brought out the chain gun from his left arm, spraying rounds at Centurion but finding that the Decepticon's shield had no trouble in absorbing them.

Centurion readjusted his balance under the heavy fire, bringing out an energy cannon from his right arm. He raised it and began firing, causing the Autobots and the NEST soldiers to scatter as blasts of blue-white energy zipped past them, slamming into nearby buildings and blowing chunks out of them.

Centurion seemed to pause as the Autobots scattered, considering his options. Finally he seemed to reach a decision, only moments before Optimus and the others resumed firing.

"I have better things to do than this," he hissed angrily. Within seconds he had jumped, changing into some sort of Cybertronian aircraft complete with a jet-like shape. Its wings were lined with intimidating spikes while the fuselage was jagged but refined, the design more to strike fear into opponents than to be of any practical use.

Centurion, now in Cybertronian jet form, roared over the surprised Autobots before pulling up and disappearing into the night sky. He left behind him a smoking trail as well as several disoriented Autobots and humans.

Breakaway turned to face Optimus, having a feeling on what the Autobot leader would tell him. Optimus approached Breakaway while the other Autobots looked on, all with some idea on what was about to happen.

However, rather than the stern argument that Breakaway had figured was coming his way Optimus instead looked towards the fellow Autobot, shook his head and said only one sentence.

"You could have been killed," he said, his voice its normal tone as if nothing serious had happened.

"It was my chance to get Centurion," Breakaway said, still trying to make sense of all that Centurion had told him, "and I stuffed up. It's my fault…"

He could still feel the burning pains where Centurion had touched him and he shifted uncomfortably where he stood, feeling guilty but disappointed at the same time. He felt guilty because he had disobeyed orders but he felt disappointed because he hadn't been able to take Centurion as he had originally believed.

Lennox stepped forward, looking tired as did the other NEST soldiers. It had been a long day, one that would have lasting ramifications for all of them.

"We should get going," Lennox said, glancing at his watch, "we've done all we can here. I'm sure General Morshower's eagerly awaiting to hear from us…If I were him, I wouldn't be too eager to hear about what happened today." Lennox sounded solemn, the death of Ironhide still weighing heavily on his mind.

Breakaway and the other Autobots simply nodded. It had been a long day and it would be remembered well by all of them. Breakaway's encounter with Centurion had only helped to stir up memories of the war on Cybertron, memories he would have preferred to have kept buried.


	25. Tracking the Spear

**Tracking the Spear  
**Somewhere under the New Mexico desert, United States  
December 15th, 2010

It was morning and the sun was beginning its steady ascent over the blue sky above the New Mexico desert, already beginning to heat up the landscape as it had in previous days. The seemingly abandoned town of Morgue (established 1877) had been the centre of some sort of military operation that had occurred the previous day and it was only beginning to finish up this morning. The town itself had a lot of activity for an apparent ghost town, indicating that it wasn't as "abandoned" as many thought.

Within the facility built under the town a clean-up had begun after the previous day's events. Workers went about doing their best to cover the tracks left by the escaped Autobot from the day before while their boss, Colonel Weller, had kept himself locked up in his office for the whole night before. Some said that Weller was going nuts but these were mere rumours since no one knew exactly, save for perhaps Captain Xander Farnell, that Colonel Weller had received such a wealth of knowledge that it was hard for him to not get carried away by it.

His office door was locked shut, the blinds on the windows drawn to prevent people from peering inside. Inside the office the walls, floors and even the ceiling were covered in strange alien symbols while papers covered with more of the symbols had been stuck to the walls, covering up every available space. Some were diagrams of devices that Weller knew how to construct while others were illustrations of some of the many Cybertronian artefacts that had played a part in the success of the Autobots in the last few years.

On Weller's cluttered desk sat a somewhat unwieldy device, one that was a mass of cables and tubes. Connected near some sort of hand-hold was a standard GPS, the type someone would put in their car. In the centre of the metre long device was a small lead-lined container which contained three pounds of uranium, the container itself being hooked up to all sorts of glowing tubes and circuitry. A small satellite dish, about the size of a dinner plate, was connected to the top of the device. Weller had spent the night constructing this device, knowing full well how to build it and what it was supposed to do. He was just adding some finishing touches right now, using a screwdriver to drive in a few loose parts that were threatening to fall off of the device.

Weller was amazed at all that he knew thanks to the incident with the All-spark shard. A lot of the knowledge of Cybertron had left his mind the instant it had entered it, perhaps for the best because too much information at once would probably have been bad for him. He still knew a lot though and he knew how to get into the ruins they had found in Venezuela, he just needed one particular device to do it.

This device had its place in both Cybertronian and human mythology. Some knew it as the "Spear of Destiny" but to the Cybertronians it was the "Lance of Unicron", a weapon of such power some might have said it was a weapon fit for a God. According to what Weller knew (despite being patchy in places), Unicron had been some sort of God-like figure who had used the Lance to slay Primus, a fellow God-like Cybertronian before Unicron himself had been banished from this plane of existence. It all sounded quite absurd but Weller knew that a lot of this quite possible, made evident from what had been downloaded into his mind and what he had assumed in order to fill in the gaps left by the suddenness of the information transfer.

Weller had been working all night on the device, having started working on it as soon as the items he had requested had been delivered. Usually he would have gotten some lower level workers to build it but since he was the only one who knew how to he had decided to do it himself, reciting that old cliché: _If you want a job done well you have to do it yourself._

There were other things he knew, especially when it came to the artefacts in question. There was the All-spark but somewhat thankfully all traces of that had been destroyed with the last known piece left at the bottom of the Laurentia trench by the Constructicons after they had used it to resurrect Megatron. Then there was the Matrix of Leadership, an item that had apparently been stored away somewhere by NEST and forgotten about.

Now there was the Spear of Destiny to worry about but it had occurred to Weller last night that he was the only one who knew of its existence. Chances are the Autobots here on Earth barely knew about it, leaving Weller as the only one with a practical means of tracking it down. This was what the unwieldy device was for: tracking down the Spear. So far Weller had just about finished constructing the device itself, now all he needed to do was tune it into the correct energy signature and he would be able to pinpoint the exact location of the Spear to within a five hundred metre radius.

He felt good about himself, partly because he knew that the success of their organization relied on finding the Spear and in turn he felt good about this because they were the only ones who knew of the Spear. There were no Autobots or Decepticons to get in the way this time, as had always been the case in previous operations.

Last year Weller and a force of his commandoes had gone to Egypt in the wake of the battle that had occurred there with the intention of getting hold of any useful alien tech. They had managed to make off with a few dead Decepticons and parts of the massive Devastator, a Decepticon that had been made up of several smaller construction vehicles that had been in fact Constructicons. It was here that Weller had learnt of the powerful Matrix of Leadership but much to his annoyance they had been too late in arriving to have any chance of getting hold of it.  
Weller was intent on making sure he got hold of the Spear of Destiny, if only to make up for past failures in the artefact searching business. With the Spear in tow they would be able to unlock the secrets of the vast network of ruins underneath Venezuela and with the Spear, if the legends were to be believed, Weller would be unstoppable. His entire force of soldiers would be unstoppable.

Then again, if the legends about the Spear were to be believed then losing possession of the Spear would result in an untimely death. Weller had a feeling that this part of the legend was only a load of crap mingled with coincidence: sure, Hitler had had the Spear and died within an hour of losing it. The same went with Caesar, although there had been one exception when it came to Kaiser Wilhelm, leader of Germany during the First World War: he had lost the Spear but he hadn't ended up dying, rather he had just lost the war and had been forced out of Germany as a result. It was exceptions like these that only fuelled Weller's belief that the some of the legends about the Spear were merely that: legends.

However, its powers were to be believed. If his knowledge of it was correct then it was capable of imbuing its user with the powers to transcend space and time as well as bend reality itself. Such power would be intoxicating but Weller was fairly confident that he would be able to control himself once he got the Spear. He was a controlled man after all, he knew his limits.

Weller was thinking through all of this when there was a loud knock at his office door. He looked up, his concentration broken much to his annoyance. Still, he figured that the person waiting to come in was the Captain since this was the only man Weller had authorized to be able to disturb him when necessary.

The Colonel put his screwdriver down on the desk and stepped over to the door. He was wearing a set of black gloves, if only to prevent incidents like the one that had occurred earlier from happening again. It was obvious that the incident with the All-spark shard had come with its fair share of side-effects, including the somewhat uncontrollable ability to bring technology to life as wild Decepticons. This did make sense since the All-spark had had that ability and obviously it had passed it on to the Colonel as a result of the accidental information transfer. Weller was somewhat unsure of his new abilities, figuring that the "bringing technology to life" one wouldn't be too useful, especially since everything he brought to life simply went on murderous rampages.

Weller unlocked the door, pulling it open. He wasn't surprised to see Captain Farnell standing behind it, the Captain looking rather tired. He had probably only just recently woken up although he had managed to dress himself in his uniform while keeping himself tidy, a commendable act at this time in the morning.

"Can I come in sir?" Captain Farnell asked.

Weller nodded, stepping aside to allow the Captain entry before closing the door after him. Farnell took a wide-eyed look at the device laid out on the desk, unsure of what to think of it. Everything else such as the alien symbols that had been scrawled onto every available surface and the papers that had been stuck to the walls didn't make the Captain have the same reaction since he had seen them before. The device was what was new to him and he peered at it carefully, stepping towards it to get a closer look.

"Don't touch it," Weller said, his words causing the Captain to stop in his tracks.

"What is it?" The Captain turned to look at the Colonel, trying to figure out if the Colonel was sane or not. Usually when someone started scribbling alien symbols all over the place as well as tack papers onto the walls covered in them one could only question their sanity.

"It's why I needed that equipment I got you to order," Weller said, stepping over to the desk and tapping the device at the top. There was power flowing through it from the centre, the tubes there lit up with energy. It seemed to be running by itself though without any visible means to give it the power, implying that it had some sort of battery.

The Captain was looking towards Weller, waiting for an answer. Weller rolled his eyes and continued with the explanation, somewhat annoyed at the Captain's obvious stupidity. Then again not many people knew what Weller did; in fact it would have been safe to assume that Weller was one of a kind.

"Once I tune it into the correct energy signature we'll be able to use this machine to pinpoint the exact location of the Spear of Destiny," Weller said, "it'll take me about an hour to tune it but once I do it we shouldn't have any trouble in finding the Spear."

"I thought it was called the 'Lance of Unicron'?" Captain Farnell asked.

Weller shook his head. Why did he even bother telling this stuff to the Captain? It was obviously too much for the young man to be able to fathom.

"The Spear of Destiny, the Lance of Unicron…who cares?" Weller shrugged. "I prefer the former, though. 'Spear of Destiny' has some sort ring to it, you know?"

There was a brief silence as the Captain eyed the device on the desk carefully, still unsure of what it was supposed to do. He tapped the GPS that made up part of it, finding that the GPS itself was in full working order.

"How the hell did you know to build this, sir?" The Captain asked, sounding somewhat incredulous, "I mean, no offence but I didn't think you were much of an engineer…"

Weller simply agreed with the last statement, nodding his head. He had never been the engineering type; rather he always got someone else to do whatever engineering he needed for him.

"I'm not," Weller replied simply, "but, as I told you yesterday, that All-spark shard did something to me…now I know a hell of a lot to do with our robotic friends. As well as this I have a grasp of engineering that is rivalled by no one."

Captain Farnell nodded, turning to face his superior. The matter had been settled no doubt, although there was still some uncertainty on the Captain's features.

"What is it you came in here to bother me about, Captain?" Weller asked, frowning, "anything I should know about?"

The Captain nodded, trying to work out on where he should start. It took him a moment since it was obvious that a lot had happened during Weller's time in his office.

"There's been some, uh…" The Captain trailed off, trying to work out on how he should put it. "There have been some attacks, sir. You know, the type that we're interested in…"  
Weller raised an eyebrow, curious.

"Attacks? Where?"

"In Holland, sir," The Captain replied, "I don't know all the details but they only happened last night. However, I did put some of our guys on the job of intercepting NEST communications…"

"Good to see you taking the initiative," The Colonel commented, pausing for a moment. Attacks in Holland? Not only that but Decepticon attacks? Well, that was unexpected, especially in a place like Holland. What was so important over in Holland that had the Decepticons so interested? It might have been something to do with the Autobot the Colonel had managed to "acquire" from the Dutch but he doubted it. If NEST was involved then there was little chance that Sector Eight would be able to get much out of these attacks. NEST would clean up the place real good, leaving hardly any trace of battle behind.

"What do you know about these attacks?" Weller asked, curious.

The Captain shrugged.

"Not much, except that Decepticons were involved and that the Dutch military took heavy casualties. As well as this, NEST managed to come along and save the day, as they always seem to do…"

Weller laughed when he heard this, sensing the Captain's sarcasm. They both knew that NEST wasn't very good at keeping collateral damage at a minimum, especially evident from previous operations on Shanghai and Egypt.

"Was there much collateral damage?" Weller asked, "Because I'm thinking there was…"

"Some civilians were killed," Farnell replied, "and a natural gas power plant was almost destroyed. The main extent of the human casualties occurred within the Dutch military forces that had been stationed in the area at the time, though. Apparently some Decepticons managed to kill about two hundred Dutch soldiers and NEST, naturally, wasn't around to help until after the Decepticons had more or less won the battle against the Dutch."

"And the Autobots say they want to protect us," Weller said, shaking his head, "what a load of crap. They either don't care or they're very bad at it. I'm thinking it's a bit of both."

Farnell nodded.

"I have to agree with you there, sir," Farnell said, "I'm pretty sure it's damn hard for a bunch of giant robots to fight without destroying the landscape in the process, as well as any people who might be nearby."

"They're unfit to be on this planet," Weller said bluntly. He was pretty certain that he was correct in this statement. The Cybertronians hailed from a world that had been built for them, a world devastated by a war that had lasted centuries. Earth, on the other hand, was completely unlike Cybertron and thus both the Autobots and Decepticons were unfit to even be on this planet.

Weller intended on removing every Cybertronian from Earth and thus save the human race from extinction. He was sure that God would be on his side since all Weller was trying to do was help humankind along. That meant reverse-engineering the technology that these alien robots left lying around everywhere, using it to create effective weapons to combat the Cybertronians.

"There's another thing sir," Farnell said, changing topic, "you know that guy, Galloway? From the NSA?"

Weller nodded. He knew Theodore Galloway far too well and had always been highly suspicious of him. Galloway was a typical bureaucrat who didn't have any clue as to how organizations like Sector Eight worked. Of course, Galloway thought he knew and was always trying to tell them what to do. He was annoying, to say the least but Weller knew that getting rid of him would only deny them funding from some of their more important benefactors within the government, benefactors who had ties with Galloway.

"What about him?" Weller asked, frowning. His mood was sent somewhat downhill after hearing the bureaucrat's name. "I thought he left yesterday…"

"He did, sir," Farnell replied, "but now he's back. He wants to talk with you. He says it's really important. Something about a 'Matrix' or something, I wouldn't have a clue about _what_ exactly…"

"Tell him I'm busy," Weller said bluntly. He was quite busy, in fact: he was in the process of getting the device on his desk to pinpoint the location of the Spear of Destiny. Everything else was only second to this task, including meeting with Galloway.

"But he's waiting up in the hotel…"

"_Tell him I'm busy_," Weller added more emphasis onto the phrase this time, shooting a stern look towards the Captain. The Captain simply nodded, any doubts he had about the validity of this order leaving him.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Weller asked, "Or is that all, Captain?"

Captain Farnell looked up, caught off-guard by the question.

"Ah…actually, there is one other thing," he replied, his face lighting up somewhat, "It's probably what you'll like most sir."

Weller raised an eyebrow carefully, not sure on what to expect.

"Really? What is it?"

"Give me a moment, sir," Farnell said, heading to the door. He opened it, bending over and picking up a large black case that he had deposited by the door before coming in. He brought it inside the office, closing the door behind him again as he rested it onto an available space on the Colonel's desk.

The case was fairly large and seemed to beam with importance, indicating that there was something rather special inside. Weller looked at the case with some scepticism, shifting his gaze back up at the Captain. The doubt was evident on the Colonel's ageing features which contrasted greatly to the broad smile on the Captain's face.

"This is one of six that arrived today, sir," Farnell said somewhat excitedly, "they were just shipped down from our scientists at Area 51. It's the sort of thing I'm sure you'll like, sir…"

Weller frowned. The mention of Area 51 made him curious as to what could possibly be inside the case. Area 51 had been where the main weapons research had been undertaken, utilising alien technology recovered from the many battles that had been fought between the Autobots and Decepticons. Sector Eight made sure to swoop in and try and covertly remove as many dead Cybertronians as they could without getting the attention of NEST, something that only limited what Sector Eight could get away with stealing. However, over the last few years they had made some progress in advanced weapons research and the mention of Area 51 certified that what was in this case was important.

Farnell briefly fumbled with the latches on the case, finally getting it to open. He swivelled it around so the lid wasn't blocking Weller's view of the contents.

What lay inside was some sort of large weapon, somewhat larger than a rifle and sort of bulky. However, the glowing blue-white transparent ridges along the barrel hinted that it was far more than any ordinary rifle. The "magazine" was a large drum size, more like that of a grenade launcher than a rifle. There were about twelve large "slugs" already loaded into the weapon. The metal of the weapon was a mix of black and grey while there appeared to be some of small grating at the rear. Currently the weapon was resting in place within the foam of the case, humming away quietly.

"Combined with some alien technology and our coil gun research it seems that the scientists at Area 51 have managed to come up with this weapon," Farnell said with some excitement, "there's no official name for it yet but I think the name 'coil rifle' has stuck."

Weller swallowed. Before him rested one of the many fruits of all the work that this organization had undertaken and he couldn't help but feel a slight tingle at the thought that finally after three years they were making progress. He grabbed the large bulky rifle, weighing it in his arms. It was heavy but not by too much, perhaps as weighty as an M60 machine gun or some other heavy support weapon.

"Coil gun, did you say?" Weller asked, peering down the sights. The blue ridges along the barrel glowed somewhat, reminding him of the energy weapons that so many of the Cybertronians wielded. There was no doubt where this part of the weapon had come from.  
"Yes sir, the 'coil gun' although what you have now is more like a 'coil rifle'," Farnell explained, "the basic principle is that the weapon fires a slug at high speeds by propelling it with magnetic coils. It's capable of punching a hole through even the toughest armour and…well, this is the best thing about it…" Farnell paused, smiling. "You can load it with _explosive_ rounds so not only does it penetrate armour but it blows it up as well. How awesome is that?"

Weller lowered the weapon, taking note of the small readouts on the side. One was an obvious ammunition counter, stating that there were currently '12' slugs loaded. The other was some sort of power meter, alerting Weller to the fact that the coils within the weapon were fully charged.

"I charged it up since I thought you might want to test fire it," Farnell said, "I did outside…"

"What's it like?" Weller asked, contemplating a test-fire. He looked around for a suitable target, taking note of the empty bottle sitting on top of the small fridge in the corner.

"It has a considerable kick, sir," Farnell said, "and the coils need to be regularly charged. It's not perfect but it'll do against some of the bigger bad guys…"

Weller took aim at the bottle, bringing the coil rifle up into a firing position. He pulled the trigger, the rifle buckling back against him with some force. There was a loud metallic _shing_ sound which was followed by a faint puff of smoke at the barrel. That was about the extent of the muzzle flash since there were no explosives required, unlike in conventional fire arms.

The thick metal slug that was propelled forth from the barrel of the weapon was barely visible as it streaked through the air, shattering the glass bottle that rested on top of the fridge before slamming into the wall. The slug stopped after travelling through the solid rock behind the wall for about a foot, leaving behind a fist-sized but precise hole

Weller lowered the coil rifle, finding a switch on the side that he flicked. Immediately the weapon powered down and the hum faded, conserving the minimal battery life of the weapon. He carefully placed it back into the case, grinning to himself as his mind began contemplating the possibilities that such advanced weapons technology brought them.

Farnell had watched the Colonel fire the shot and was still smiling, noticing the Colonel's satisfaction with the performance of the weapon.

"That's not all we got either," Captain Farnell said, "We also received about four prototype portable rail guns."

"Rail guns? Like the one used to take down Devastator?" Weller was suitably interested in what other goodies the science geeks over at Area 51 had brought them, figuring that his day had suitably improved.

The rail gun was one particular type of weapon that Weller had heard about. There was one aircraft carrier in the US Navy that had a rail gun on it and this particular rail gun had been used to blow a large hole in the massive Devastator, a metal monstrosity that had been made up of several smaller Constructicons. The standard rail gun used magnets to accelerate a (usually tungsten) projectile at seven times the speed of sound, obliterating the target with mere force of impact. No explosives were involved.

Judging from the abrupt death of Devastator after it had been hit with a single rail gun round Weller was somewhat pleased at the thought of hearing that they had received a few "portable" ones. With these weapons Sector Eight would be a force to be reckoned with, even if Weller thought that now.

"Yes sir," Farnell replied, "they operate on the same principle but on a smaller scale. It takes a team of two to operate just one of them though and the barrels apparently wear out after a few uses…"

"Get the boys to mount one on the back of one of our SUVs," Weller said, "I want these weapons deployed and ready for use as soon as possible."

Farnell nodded.

"Understood, Colonel," he said. He paused for a moment, thinking about what had been discussed. "Don't you think we should try finding that Autobot that escaped yesterday? And that priest?"

Weller shook his head. He had almost forgotten about the escaped Autobot and James Turner and with good reason: they didn't matter.

"Forget them," Weller said, restating what he had told Farnell last night, "We have other things to worry about, such as the Spear of Destiny. Once we have that we won't need to worry about anything else."

"What about Galloway?" Farnell asked, "You still want me to tell him to wait?"

Weller was just about to reply when a splitting and excruciating pain shot through his skull, as if someone had stuck a sword there. He keeled over, clutching his head, noticing that his vision had blurred. Alien symbols dazed upon his view, as if they had been conjured up from his mind without him realizing.

Farnell stepped forward, concern crumpling his features.

"Colonel, are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine!" Weller barked, shaking his head. The pain receded almost as quickly as it had arrived, allowing the Colonel to stand back up. The alien symbols had gone and his vision was only just clearing up. There was one thing that had changed, though: he could sense something, something unhuman and something that filled him with absolute disgust.

"Uh…okay, sir," Farnell said, taking a step back.

Weller looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened. He could sense some sort of repulsive presence from somewhere above. It was faint through the rock but he could feel it, as if it was the one thing that was causing him the pain. Now his head was only throbbing dully but it was still enough to shift his attention to the strange and repulsive presence he felt above them, presumably on the surface above the underground facility.

"Shit…" Weller muttered, realizing what this could mean. He was slowly developing abilities, some of them almost supernatural. He had the power to bring technology to life as the All-spark had been able to, implying that the All-spark shard had passed its abilities onto him. No doubt there would be more side effects like the ones he had already noticed, such as the metal at the back of the throat that seemed to be working its way deeper inside him and the metallic tendrils that had gradually appeared on his hands.

"Where is Galloway?" Weller asked, looking towards Farnell. The Colonel no longer cared about what he was becoming: there were other more important things to attend to, such as what he was feeling now.

Farnell looked perplexed at Weller's sudden change of tone but he answered the question anyway, pointing up.

"He's up in the hotel," Farnell said, "why? I thought you didn't want to talk with him…"

Weller reached over to the case containing the coil rifle and closed it. He knew that under no circumstances could he give Galloway any hint that he knew what the bureaucrat truly was but Weller was determined to get rid of him regardless. He closed the case, latching it shut before hoisting it up in one hand and starting for the door. Farnell followed, still trying to figure out what was going on.

"Colonel, what's happening?" Farnell asked, "Why are you in such a hurry all of a sudden?"

"Put out an alert throughout the base," Weller replied, pulling open the door and stepping out. Farnell frowned, perplexed as to why an alert was even needed.

"Why, sir?" Farnell asked, "There's no trouble…"

"Stop asking questions and just follow my orders!" Weller snapped, shooting an angered look towards the Captain.

Farnell fell silent, nodding in response. He headed off to sound the facility's alarm as Weller continued for the set of stairs that lead up to the garage on the surface, up in the "abandoned" town of Morgue. He could still feel that presence, the one that had been posing as Galloway…

Weller was annoyed at how they couldn't have seen this earlier. Theodore Galloway wasn't Theodore Galloway…No, he was something else. Something unhuman. He was something that Weller intended to kill. How did the Colonel know this? He just did. He could feel it.


	26. Smokescreen and Depthcharge

**Smokescreen and Depthcharge  
**NEST Headquarters, Diego Garcia  
December 15th, 2010

The sun was starting on its ascent over the waters of the Indian Ocean, the sunlight shimmering on the surface of the ocean. Around the island of Diego Garcia the water was patrolled by many Navy ships, mostly destroyers, in an effort to protect the island from possible enemy incursion by sea. They also kept on the lookout for any incoming enemy aircraft as well, making sure to alert Diego Garcia to any developments that occurred.

Usually very little occurred out here within this particular stretch of ocean. It wasn't surprising that most of the navy crews on service out here spent most of their time attempting to fight boredom rather than actually keep watch on the water around the important island. Many of the US Navy crews didn't know of the important and secretive operations that the island was at the centre of for the existence of NEST was known only to a select few within the US government and to those that were a part of the organization. The official story was that there was a military base on the island, used to organize patrols in the waters near the island as well as arrange training exercises for the Navy crews.

On the bridge of the destroyer _USS Nebraska_, one of the young Petty Officers was only just starting his duty at a bank of sonar and radar screens as the digital clock on the wall ticked onto ten o'clock. He had woken up a few hours earlier as had most others on board the destroyer, another glorious day of patrolling the ocean ahead of them.

With the minutes ticking by slowly Petty Officer Roberts was left with little to do except keep watch at his station.

It was only ten past ten when an unidentified blip appeared on one of the screens. At first the Petty Officer thought little of it, thinking that it was just a merchant vessel one of the other ships in the fleet would take care of. However, he took note of the speed it was travelling and the direction it was heading and realized that it couldn't be a simple merchant ship that had stumbled into restricted waters. No, this boat was travelling quite fast and was headed straight for Diego Garcia.

Petty Officer Roberts was the first to put out a minor alert, getting the attention of the ageing Commander who stepped into the bridge and took a look at the suspicious blip. He gave the order to put the destroyer on an intercept course with the blip, the helmsman making sure to adjust the destroyer's heading and speed appropriately.

By quarter past ten the destroyer was closing in upon the suspicious blip and was yet to actually catch sight of the speeding watercraft. On the bridge the atmosphere was tense with some of the younger officers excited somewhat, knowing that they may be on the way to some sort of skirmish with an intruding boat. Unfortunately for the bored crew of the _USS Nebraska_ there would be only one shot fired, and it would be a somewhat necessary shot.

Rather, the destroyer parked itself in the path of the oncoming intruding boat. The crew was surprised to see it was a US gunboat, a small and nimble craft armed with depth charges and torpedoes. It was grey and armoured, the US Navy insignia printed on the side as well as the craft's serial number. The gunboat had been speeding along the water, leaving behind it a rough white wake. With the destroyer in the way the gunboat attempted to change course, revealing that there was something hitching a ride on the back…something tall and blue.

The Commander brought up a pair of binoculars and used them to take a closer look at the gunboat and what was hitching a ride on the back. He frowned, looking a little confused as to what he had seen. He lowered the binoculars and picked up the radio at the bank of controls in front of him, speaking into the announcement system. His vice echoed across the water as he attempted to warn the occupants of the intruding craft that they were not welcome here.

"Unidentified craft, this is Commander Hassall of the _USS Nebraska_ of the United States Navy," the Commander announced, "you do not have clearance to be in these waters. You are to stop immediately and turn around; otherwise I will have to give the order to fire upon you."

The others on the bridge frowned at hearing this, able to see that the Commander wasn't too serious about it himself. He lowered the radio, giving the occupants of the intruding craft a moment to consider his words.

The gunboat kept on speeding along with the obvious intention of driving right past the destroyer. The Commander turned to the weapons operator on the bridge, shaking his head at the seeming stupidity of the occupants within the gunboat.

"Fire a warning shot across their bow," the Commander ordered, "make sure you don't hit them though."

It only took a moment or two for one of the destroyer's guns to be swivelled around and adjusted in order to fire accurately at the moving gunboat. The gun thundered and a column of water exploded ahead of the gunboat, causing it to swerve before it braked to a halt in the water. The occupants of the boat seemed to have got the message so the Commander was back on the announcement system while a boarding team was assembled.

"Unidentified craft, please remain where you are," the Commander said, the relief evident in his voice. Blowing up a boat would have been the last thing they needed this morning. "A boarding party is being assembled. We have the authority to search your ship and…"

The radio operator seated nearby suddenly looked up, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Uh, sir, they're hailing us," the radio operator said, "and I think you'd better hear what they're saying."

The Commander nodded, frowning at the interruption. The radio operator switched the correct frequency onto loudspeaker, allowing the somewhat annoyed sounding male voice to be audible throughout the bridge.

"_Damn it, you didn't have to shoot at us!"_ The voice demanded angrily. The Commander frowned, flicking a switch in order to reply.

"This is Commander Hassell of the _USS Nebraska_ of the United States Navy," the Commander repeated, "state who you are and your purpose within these waters…"

_"This is Depthcharge the Autobot,"_ the voice replied, _"with Smokescreen as passenger. We were only trying to get to Diego Garcia…"_

The Commander swallowed. He wasn't too sure just what an 'Autobot' was but he thought it best to contact General Morshower who led the operations on the island. No doubt the General would have a better idea of what to do with these intruders than he did. And chances were Morshower would probably know what an 'Autobot' was.

* * *

It had only been a week earlier when both Depthcharge and Smokescreen had arrived on Earth, landing on the Eastern seaboard of the United States. It had taken them some time to actually find out about NEST and where it was located, special thanks to the US defence network that the pair of Autobots had had no trouble in hacking. It seemed that the humans could do little to stop intruders from interfering with their global networks, a definite flaw in the apparently "rigid" defences of this planet.

Before Earth the pair had been on Mars where an encounter with Starscream a few years before had left Smokescreen severely wounded. Depthcharge had come a little later, aiding the younger Autobot back to health before the pair had decided to come to Earth. They had detected Optimus' signal and had spent a while determining the status of the Autobots on Earth. It was only bad luck that they happened to arrive at Diego Garcia to find that all of the resident Autobots were currently over in Europe on an important mission. It was also just bad luck that the human naval forces had mistaken them for intruders or terrorists or something…hence the reason why Depthcharge had stopped in order to make contact with the humans.

General Morshower had known what to do with the two new arrivals, telling the Commander of the destroyer _USS Nebraska_ to escort the pair to the docks at Diego Garcia. It was from the General that the pair found out that they had arrived at a bad time since all of the other Autobots were off in another country on some mission to fight the Decepticons.

Smokescreen had spent most of the trip riding on the back of Depthcharge's gunboat form, a somewhat uneasy ride across the ocean. Smokescreen decided against actually riding a boat again after that since Depthcharge had had little concern for the safety of his passenger, simply speeding along the sometimes rough waters while Smokescreen held on for dear life.

The pair of Autobots now stood near the docks on the eastern part of the island, both in their full robot modes. Depthcharge was tall, bearing the parts of the gunboat he changed into complete with grey camouflage pattern. Smokescreen was slightly shorter, able to change into a blue and red Pontiac Solstice. The front bumper of the car took up his chest while the car doors were on his shoulders and down his arms, the wheels at his legs. In all the two Autobots were genuinely different from one another yet had become quite close friends during the time they had spent on Mars, with Depthcharge nursing the wounded Smokescreen back to health.

Smokescreen wouldn't be surprised if all the other Autobots thought he was dead. He had certainly been close to death, being left severely wounded after an encounter with Starscream on board the _Nemesis_ which had been parked on Mars at the time. If it wasn't for Depthcharge, Smokescreen probably would have died. For that Smokescreen owed his friend a debt of gratitude.

Now the pair stood waiting for this General Morshower guy to arrive, having been told that the other Autobots were absent over the radio. It seemed that they would be the only two on the island for now which was somewhat inconvenient since they had both been expecting to catch up with the others. Smokescreen had been especially looking forward to revealing himself to the others as not being dead as they generally believed him to be.

Earth was, according to what Optimus had said in the message, a "Safe haven" for their kind. It was certainly a lot different to Cybertron, that was for sure. There were no futuristic cities and where Cybertron had been almost entirely artificial Earth was almost entirely organic, covered with oceans and forests that were teeming with organic life. The humans had installed themselves as the dominant species and seemed to have somewhat primitive technology compared to that of the Cybertronians but they had the potential to achieve greater.

The war between the Autobots and the Decepticons was not a human war. The war had been inadvertently taken to Earth and so the humans had been made as much a part of it as the Autobots and Decepticons already were.

It wasn't long before a nervous looking human soldier, a young male bearing the rank of Corporal on his uniform, approached the two waiting Autobots as they stood waiting at the docks. He seemed more nervous at the prospect of facing a pair of tall alien robots than for any other reason.

Depthcharge peered curiously at the human which only helped to fuel the Corporal's nervousness. Since the two Autobots hadn't been doing much else except standing around heating up in the glaring sun Depthcharge was somewhat bored, deciding to seize this opportunity to actually get straight to the business of why they had come to this island.  
"Human, where is your superior?" Depthcharge asked, forming the robotic equivalent of a frown on his metal features, "he has kept us waiting long enough…"  
"Ah…well…" The Corporal struggled to form a cohesive sentence when faced with the two alien robots. "Well, he's…ah…"

"Just tell us where he is," Smokescreen interjected, "we can go to him ourselves."

"He's at the…uh…comms room, in the large hangar," the Corporal managed to say, pointing to the largest hangar that was to one side of the runway ahead. "He wants to talk to you two…"

Without giving the human a further moment's notice the pair of Autobots started on their way past him, leaving the Corporal to dwell in his own thoughts by himself.

The military base seemed to be in full operation, with groups of soldiers running along the sides of the runway for morning exercise while a pair of jets roared overhead. Engineers and other support staff went about on their daily routines of running the base, some of them managing sidewards glances at the two Autobots as they crossed the runway.

Depthcharge didn't know what to think of the humans as they scurried around, going about their own business yet barely reacting to his or Smokescreen's presence. It was fairly obvious that they were used to seeing his kind around otherwise they wouldn't be so tolerant of the presence of the two Autobots.

It seemed that the humans were masters of overreacting, made evident by how they had almost shot Depthcharge earlier when he had been making his way to the island in his boat form with Smokescreen on board as his passenger. Luckily General Morshower had managed to talk the crew of the destroyer that had fired at the pair out of blasting them from the water, although Depthcharge was fairly certain that he could have taken out the human destroyer with little trouble if a fight had occurred.

The comms room was probably more accurately described as the "comms hangar" since it took up most of the main hangar. Banks of computers and screens were centred within the hangar while many human technicians sat at their assigned stations, running the operations of NEST from this very room. The choice of the hangar was obviously to allow the Autobots room to move around since any ordinary human room would probably be too small for a thirty foot tall robot.

There was a stern looking, balding human male standing on the platform where the main view-screen and necessary computers had been set up. His uniform beared the insignia of General while his name tag had the name 'MORSHOWER' printed on it in black letters. He turned his gaze from the main view-screen to the two Autobots who had just entered.

On the main view-screen a three dimensional image of the Earth was displayed, rotating as it displayed readouts on all current NEST operations. Decepticon sightings were marked with red circles and NEST units were signified with yellow triangles. There weren't a lot of places on the planet where these markers resided although in one particular part of Europe many of them had been clustered together, as if there had been a recent and important operation there.

Morshower regarded both Autobots with a careful and examining gaze for a moment, trying to work out just who he was dealing with. He didn't look too pleased judging from the frown that had creased his middle-aged features but this sort of mood probably came with the job of being a General. A General in a good mood was probably a rare occurrence indeed, especially when Morshower was the General in question.

"You have to realize that since you're on our planet you have to abide by _our_ rules," Morshower said, jumping straight to laying down the rules, "that means you can't just expect to drive straight through restricted waters and not expect to get stopped by someone. Now I have a whole destroyer crew who knows of your existence and that's just going to put a strain on the secrecy of NEST, a strain that's already hard enough to cope with already without more of your kind showing up and exposing yourself to a hell of a lot of people who don't need to know about your existence. Secrecy is something damn important in our organization, that's going to have to be something you're going to need to get a grasp of."

Neither Depthcharge nor Smokescreen had been expecting the human leader of this military installation to be in such a sour mood. Smokescreen didn't know what to say while Depthcharge simply gave the robot equivalent of a shrug, unsure of how to respond to the lengthy statement made by the General.

"When did you two arrive anyway?" General Morshower asked, "I'm surprised nobody detected you…"

"We arrived approximately seven of your 'days' ago," Depthcharge said. General Morshower took note of the slight British twang in the Autobot's voice, figuring that, as always, these two Autobots had used the Internet to get a human-like persona for themselves.

"A week? So you've been on our planet for _a week_?" Morshower sounded a little annoyed. "What did you do during that time? You didn't expose yourself to any civilians, did you? We're already struggling to keep up the secrecy act as it is…"

"No civilians saw us, General," Depthcharge continued, "rather, we took the time to study your species and the civilization you have developed using the 'World Wide Web', as you humans call it."

Morshower wasn't surprised to hear this.

"Smokescreen and I have spent the most of the last three of your 'years' on the planet you humans have called 'Mars'," Depthcharge continued, "Smokescreen was severely wounded in a battle with Starscream and I helped bring him back to good health. It did take time, though. That's why the two of us have only arrived recently."

"Yeah, well you chose a damn good time to visit," Morshower said, "nearly a whole year's gone past without anything happening and now all of a sudden I have Decepticons popping up all over the place! Do you two have any idea why this is happening now?"

Morshower sounded annoyed and it was easy to tell that he hadn't been expecting the sudden surge in Decepticon activity on Earth. Smokescreen and Depthcharge exchanged glances, realizing that they had practically no idea as to why there was an apparent rise in enemy activity upon this planet. Besides, what would they know? They had only been here for a week after all and this surge in Decepticon activity had only started yesterday.

"We do not know why there has been this sudden increase you describe, General," Depthcharge replied, "although it may be safe to assume that something has re-sparked the Decepticon's interest in your planet."  
Morshower looked doubtful when he thought of this possibility.

"What could they possibly want? The All-spark was destroyed, the energon harvester in Egypt was dismantled, and the Matrix of Leadership is in a secure location…" He trailed off, noticing that both Autobots were only just following him.

The thought struck both Depthcharge and Smokescreen that they had missed out on a lot during their absence from the war for the last few years. The All-spark destroyed? How could that have happened? The last hope to save their race and it had been destroyed…

There was an energon harvester on this planet? Depthcharge figured he should ask about this sort of thing later seeing as he had no idea as to why there would be an energon harvester on this planet seeing as it was inhabited…energon harvesters were only permitted on worlds in systems that were completely lifeless.

Then there was the thought that the Matrix of Leadership was here on Earth. As much as both Depthcharge and Smokescreen wanted to ask the General about these things it seemed stupid to ask him now since the General wasn't in a very good mood.

"You two don't know about that stuff, do you?" Morshower asked, "I thought as much."

He paused for a moment, considering what else to say.

"That's why I find it hard to believe that the Decepticons would bother with our planet. There's nothing left here for them except the Matrix of Leadership and I have no idea as to why they would want that. Unless, of course, there's something I'm missing…"

"Or they could want the Matrix of Leadership," Smokescreen suggested. His voice was accented with a typical modern-day American twang, one that seemed to be reminiscent of a New Yorker accent.

"If they want it they haven't bothered to go and get it," Morshower said, gesturing to the main view-screen, "we have that piece of space treasure in a secure vault under the Arizona desert. So far we have been met with no reports of Decepticons trying to break in and steal it."

Depthcharge considered this for a moment, figuring that there was probably a much more valid reason why the Decepticons would be suddenly on the move on Earth. There were several red markers on the three dimensional image of the Earth, scattered across the globe which implied that Decepticon activity was spread out. There seemed to be several in one region in particular, hinting that it had been the source of some importance for the Decepticons.

"I've got the rest of your kind over in Holland," Morshower said, noticing Depthcharge's interest in what was displayed on the main view-screen, "from what I've heard the Decepticons made a landing and slaughtered a few hundred Dutch soldiers. As well as this it seems that both Megatron and Starscream have made a return, which worries me: why would they both be here if it wasn't for something important?"

"Megatron and Starscream?" Smokescreen asked, his interest in the matter having rose considerably, "here? On Earth?"

Morshower nodded while keeping his expression serious.

"Reports are sketchy but apparently there's an even larger threat," Morshower continued, "someone named 'Centurion'. Apparently he managed to kill Ironhide…"

Ironhide was dead? Both Depthcharge and Smokescreen had known Ironhide and so the abrupt news of his death hit them rather hard, sending both Autobots into a brief silence. They had obviously arrived at a bad time.

The mention of Centurion made Depthcharge a tad uneasy though. He had heard of this rogue Decepticon before: Centurion had tried to remove Megatron from power and install himself as the new leader of the Decepticons, only for this attempted coup to fail. If Depthcharge remembered correctly then Optimus' son had disappeared along with Centurion several decades ago, an event that had unhinged the Prime somewhat. Since then Optimus had always been quite ruthless when it came to fighting the Decepticons.

"What worries me is the reports I'm getting," Morshower continued, "according to what I'm being told, this Centurion has some sort of energy shield, one that can soak up everything we throw at him. What unnerves me even more is why he's here: _we don't know_ why he's here. So far we've tried to track him but this is made impossible by the interference that follows him everywhere. It's as if he _causes_ the interference.

"So, do you two have any idea on how to fight this guy?" Morshower asked, "Or have you two never encountered Centurion before?"

Depthcharge answered on behalf of both Smokescreen and himself. He would have to disappoint the General since he hadn't actually encountered Centurion for a very long time and back then, on Cybertron, Centurion hadn't had this "energy shield" Morshower had mentioned.

"I'm afraid not, General," Depthcharge said, "it has been a long time since we last encountered Centurion. We actually thought he was dead…"

"You did? Well, he isn't," Morshower replied bluntly, "and now he's on the loose somewhere in Europe."

He turned to take another look at the main view-screen, thinking about the information displayed on it. He approached one of the technicians sitting nearby and muttered something to them, presumably an order since the technician went on to key a few commands into his computer. Soon the view of the computer generated Earth on the main view-screen zoomed in until it was a few miles above one particular region in particular. This region appeared to be mostly desert but a large town was visible to one edge. Two red markers were set right in the centre of the satellite image of the desert, obviously both used to represent Decepticons.

Morshower turned around to look at both Smokescreen and Depthcharge, nodding towards the satellite image displayed on the main view-screen.

"We managed to track both Megatron and Starscream to here," he said, "it took some time though since they were scrambling our radars as they went. It seems to me they're headed for one town in particular, in Nevada…"

He paused for a moment, taking note of the reactions both Autobots had. Depthcharge had a feeling on what was coming next and he exchanged uncertain glances with Smokescreen, both of them thinking that they should have waited a little while longer before coming here. No doubt they had stumbled right into a crisis.

"So far I've got reports that Centurion's making his way down to Austria," Morshower said, "so I've sent all of the other Autobots and the forces we had sent to Holland with them to follow up on this information. However, that leaves us with no Autobots to keep tabs on both Megatron and Starscream…"

"And this is where we come in?" Smokescreen asked. He was right judging from the nod Morshower gave.

"You two couldn't have arrived at a better time," Morshower commented although his tone was still quite serious, "what I need you two to do is keep watch on those two Decepticons. I don't want you to fight them but I do want you to keep watch on them, that way you might be able to figure out why they're here…"

Neither Depthcharge nor Smokescreen had been expecting to be put on a mission straight away. Rather, they had been expecting to catch up with the other Autobots before being sent on potentially dangerous missions to other parts of the planet. It was safe to say that they had been dragged right into the middle of a raging crisis…one that had General Morshower both worried and stressed.

"Is that all you want us to do?" Smokescreen asked, "Just keep watch on Megatron and Starscream?"

Morshower nodded, somewhat glad that the two Autobots weren't complaining. Both Depthcharge and Smokescreen wanted to complain although they had probably had a long enough time off, seeing as they had both spent the last few years on Mars doing very little. Depthcharge had been responsible for Smokescreen during that time, managing to keep him alive despite the fact that Smokescreen had had injuries that would have killed any other Autobot. Depthcharge was proud of the achievement of having been able to keep his friend alive and nurse him back to health in turn.

"All you have to do is keep tabs on the two Decepticons and figure out what they're up to," Morshower said, "once you have some solid information I'll be able to figure something out. Until then I'm up to my neck in the sheer amount of crap that's going on all over the place. Not only do we have Decepticons in Holland but it seems they've turned up in Austria, the United States…It's as if they all just came out of nowhere. I sure as hell don't like it, I can tell you that."

Depthcharge simply nodded. Keeping watch on both Megatron and Starscream didn't sound too difficult although there was the chance that the Decepticons would encounter both Autobots. If that happened then the only option left would be to fight…something that neither Depthcharge nor Smokescreen had done for a while.

"Both Megatron and Starscream seem to be headed for Tranquility, in Nevada," Morshower said, "fortunately we already have one Autobot there, although I'm not sure if he'll be of any help…"

"Who?" Depthcharge was curious to hear what Autobot was already in this human town. Why he would be there was also something he wanted to find out.

"We sent him to keep watch over Sam Witwicky," Morshower explained, "his name's Bumblebee. He doesn't know what's going on so he probably won't be much help…although feel free to get him involved if you have to. I would prefer it if this whole operation was kept restricted to NEST Autobots only.

"It worries me that Megatron and Starscream are headed for Tranquility," Morshower went on, a look of concern crossing his face, "they might even be after Sam Witwicky and Bumblebee. If so you should try and protect the boy…That means there might be some combat involved. Unfortunately you two are the only two Autobots I have on hand."

"I thought this would only be a reconnaissance mission?" Depthcharge asked. He knew Bumblebee from Cybertron but he didn't know who this "Sam Witwicky" person was, nor did he really care.

"It probably will be," Morshower said, "chances are Sam's not even in town, so I doubt it'll be Megatron and Starscream trying to get their revenge on him. What I'm thinking is that there's another much more important reason why they're headed for Tranquility…and that's what I want you two to find out."

"What if we do get into a fight?" Smokescreen asked. Both he and Depthcharge were somewhat unsure of what to think of the task Morshower had given them but they did feel obligated to help, especially when Megatron and Starscream were involved.

"Then try not to kill any civilians," Morshower said bluntly, "there's already been enough of _that_."


	27. Pretender

**Pretender  
**The town of Morgue, New Mexico  
December 15th, 2010

There was that presence again, the one that Colonel Francis Weller despised with all of his hatred. The thought that it was posing as a _human_ simply angered him even more, yet he kept a straight face as he stepped forth from the garage and out into the New Mexico sun. The town of Morgue was quiet, deserted: the perfect place for a showdown. He smiled wanly at the thought, clutching the case that contained the prototype "coil rifle" in his right hand as he stepped out onto the street. The garage behind him contained the main personnel entrance into the underground facility and he had spent most of the previous day and night within that facility, thus the sunlight managed to hurt his eyes as he stepped outside for the first time in almost twenty-four hours. It took a few seconds for his vision to recover, scorch marks flaring across his vision as he surveyed the street in front of him.

The hotel was to his left and was the largest building in the small and apparently "deserted" town. A pair of soldiers stood guard out front, both of whom looked rather bored from the lack of activities available. An expensive black Mercedes was parked out the front, obviously being Theodore Galloway's car. If anything the man (if one could call the fake Galloway a "man") had expensive tastes.

Weller stood where he was for a moment or two, considering his options: would it be best if he went in all guns blazing or should he humour Galloway and see what the bureaucrat had to say? Regardless of the choice he made it would end the same way: he would expose that…_thing_ that was pretending to be Galloway one way or another. He figured that humouring this sort of "Pretender" would be the best approach until Weller was sure he could take it out with minimal risk to himself and the other soldiers.

His head throbbed dully and his senses were going into overdrive. They were all telling him that there was some sort of despicable and repulsive presence nearby, one that Weller knew he was going to hate. This presence was within the hotel, waiting for him to arrive. The thing was it didn't know that Weller knew what it was; rather it was still "pretending" to be Galloway, oblivious to the fact that it was close to being exposed. There would have been a very good reason why it had chosen to be Galloway and so Weller considered the option of humouring this despicable "Pretender" for the information to do with this. Why Galloway? Why would it even want to be some skinny bureaucrat who got angry if his shoes were dirty?

Weller gazed around at the quiet street. All buildings save for the hotel were boarded up and worn from the desert heat and wind that carried sands along. Some buildings were looking better than others but all were weather-beaten and derelict save for the hotel. The only signs of life were the few patrolling soldiers and the few vehicles parked nearby, such as the SUV that was parked within the garage behind Weller. The immediate image of a ghost town was still being portrayed, not that it was particularly necessary since any evidence of the town had been removed off of every map available.

In essence, Morgue didn't exist anymore. Of course this hadn't stopped that meddling priest James Turner from finding it and infiltrating the underground facility. Weller cared little about this though, concentrating more on the task at hand. Once he had dealt with the fake Galloway the Colonel would get right back onto the task of finding the Spear of Destiny.

Weller started for the hotel, watching as a lone tumbleweed rolled past him, carried along by the slight eerie breeze that billowed through the town. The wind whistled between the derelict buildings, breaking the silence of the ghost town but only briefly. The patrolling soldiers were quiet but as Weller approached the hotel he became aware of some talking emerging from within the building, backgrounded by some faint music obviously playing from a radio.

He stopped, feeling his headache return. He put a hand to his aching forehead and rubbed it, shaking his head as he tried to get back on track of what he had been thinking about. Headaches like this were merely inconvenient to him but they seemed to be increasing in frequency, as if his body was telling him that he was nearing the fake Theodore Galloway and that he should do something about it. He intended on doing something about it, just not yet.

Ever since the incident with the All-spark shard Weller could have sworn that he was going crazy. Some would have said that he had already been crazy beforehand but those that thought this never had the kindliness to say it to his face. Weller kept on seeing Cybertronian symbols in his mind and sometimes they even danced across his vision, as if teasing him. His mind was so full of information that it was somewhat unsurprising that he kept getting headaches. A standard scan of his brain would have revealed much higher activity than that of a normal human being, indicating that Weller wasn't so ordinary anymore.

As well as the headaches and plethora of alien information dancing around within his mind there were the physical side effects as well. There was the fact that he had the same ability as the All-spark, capable of bringing any sort of the usually inactive and non-living technology to life as a wild Decepticon. Then there were the narrow metal tendrils snaking their way under his skin at his hands and arms as well as the metal that had developed at the back of his throat. He could still breathe fine, it just felt a bit…tingly. A closer inspection of the metal would have revealed that it bore striking similarities to what the All-spark had been made out of.

Weller resumed walking again, doing his best to ignore the throbbing ache in his head. He came to the front porch of the hotel, the two soldiers here saluting as he approached. He simply nodded in acknowledgement, his mind on other things as he pushed open the door of the hotel.

The ground floor was taken up with a lounge and bar. Of course the bar wasn't much of a bar anymore and more of a "help yourself to drinks" section. Forty year old bottles of scotch and beer were still being kept at the bar and many of the soldiers had been thoughtful enough to help themselves to them, gradually decreasing the amount of old drinks kept behind the bar.

The lounge consisted of several comfortable cushioned chairs and some tables. Currently a trio of soldiers were seated around a table, a radio resting on it which was currently playing some typical 1980s music that hissed with static due to the lacklustre quality of the signal. They were out in the desert after all: radio stations didn't exactly broadcast well out into the middle of nowhere.

The soldiers had been cheerfully chatting away until Weller had walked in. As soon as he was inside the conversation ended abruptly and the soldiers stood up and saluted their superior, doing their best to look unfazed. Weller acknowledge their salutes with a curt nod before looking around the bar and lounge area, frowning since there was no sign of Galloway.

That was when he sensed it again, as if there was some warning beacon sounding out in his mind. Galloway was upstairs in one of the rooms, a room that had since been converted to a barracks for some of the longer serving soldiers here. It was obvious that Galloway wanted some privacy, hinting at the importance of what he wanted to tell Weller. Perhaps humouring the "Pretender" would be a better move rather than simply walking in with weapons drawn and shooting up the place.

"Colonel," one of the soldiers said, noticing Weller's interest in the staircase up ahead, "Galloway's upstairs. He wants to talk to you…"

"I know," Weller replied bluntly. The soldier fell silent, sitting back down with the other two as the trio gradually resumed their conversation.

Weller decided to take his time, carefully planning how he would approach the Pretender waiting upstairs. He had heard of a similar infiltration last year when some college student that had been at the same college as Sam Witwicky had turned out to be some sort of Decepticon "Pretender" or "Terminator". Of course this was the sort of incident you barely heard about even when you were in an organization like Sector Eight but when someone stumbled upon a dead robot on the streets it was surprising just how quickly news could travel through secret organizations such as this one.

The Colonel winced as another shot of pain went through his skull. He swallowed and approached the bar, going behind it as he searched for something that might help to ease the pain. He ignored the watchful gazes of the three soldiers seated across the room as he took out a dusty bottle of scotch and a dusty old glass. He wiped the glass down with one sleeve before pouring himself a considerable amount of the beverage he had selected, downing it without so much as batting an eyelid. He repeated the process three more times, the three soldiers across the room watching him with some amusement. Obviously they had never thought of the Colonel as an avid drinker but there was a lot they didn't know about him.

Belching loudly Weller left the glass and bottle on the bench as he picked up his case again and waited a few minutes for the alcohol to work its magic. He figured it best if he went into this situation with a head that didn't keep hurting, regardless of whether it was acting as a sort of warning beacon. The pain did recede slightly but not much.

Rather than delay the inevitable any longer Weller headed for the staircase, starting up it with a look of grim determination on his face. He took one step at a time, seizing this last chance to alter his plan of approach.

The moment of truth was nearing as he came to the top of the staircase and into the hallway that ran between the two sets of hotel rooms. All the rooms had been converted into barracks for the soldiers stationed here while there were more down in the underground facility, thus ensuring that everyone here stayed here in order to minimize the risk of a security leak. If there was one thing Weller didn't like it was a security leak but he hated Cybertronians even more.

He could feel the presence quite strongly now and he turned his gaze to the first room on his left as he turned to face down the corridor. The door of this room was open, allowing the Colonel to casually waltz inside with the case containing the coil rifle within the grip of his right hand.

Another sharp pain shot though his head as he entered the room. He did his best to ignore it and keep a straight face as to not arouse the suspicions of Galloway, who was standing near the window.

The thought occurred to the Colonel that this bastard might be able to see what's inside the case. If so then Weller was undoubtedly screwed the moment Galloway turned around. Weller breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened as Galloway turned around and regarded the Colonel briefly, sensing that Weller wasn't feeling too well.

"Colonel, I wasn't sure how long I would have to wait for you," Galloway said. Whatever these things did to take on human form they did it darn well since there was no way any ordinary person would have been able to tell that Galloway wasn't actually human.

Then again, Weller realized he wasn't any ordinary person. The All-spark shard had given him abilities, abilities that he intended to use to their full potential on his God given mission to eradicate the Cybertronians that were on Earth.

Weller managed his usual slight smile, acknowledging the bureaucrat while keeping things civil. He would have to tread carefully here no doubt, otherwise Weller could be dead before he realized it. There was a shimmer of blue over his gaze and he saw a brief image of some sort of metal, red-eyed monstrosity residing underneath the exterior of flesh that Galloway presented. There was no doubt in the Colonel's mind that Galloway was not human.

"I was busy, Galloway," Weller said, "You have to understand that a man in my position is always busy."

Galloway took a step forward, nodding as he did. Weller tensed but his tension was unfounded since Galloway did nothing, having simply stepped closer to engage in the conversation a little better. Weller kept a watchful eye on the Pretender, trying his best to remain alert, "vigilant" as he always liked to put it. It made him think of himself as righteous, for he knew his goals were righteous: free the Earth of the Autobot and Decepticon scourge that had fallen upon it. This was a mission that even God himself would approve of. Weller was quite certain that God had appointed him to lead this mission, as if fate had played a hand in Weller getting to where he was now. He thought that it had been fate that had caused the incident with the All-spark, an incident that had given him the power to expose Galloway as to what he really was: a Decepticon with a human outer shell, sort of like Arnold Schwarzenegger from _The Terminator_ movies. Weller smiled at the thought as well as the thought that soon he would be responsible for killing this "Pretender".

There was another shot of pain through his skull but Weller ignored it, the only revealing aspect of the pain he felt being a slight twitch at one corner of his mouth. Galloway probably barely noticed although there was no telling just what sort of tricks this Decepticon Pretender had up its sleeves. Decepticons could probably detect all sorts of things, from body heat to pheromone levels. Weller knew he would have to keep his cool. Decepticons may have been sensitive to movement and such, as anyone else would have been, but like everybody else they couldn't read minds.

"That's understandable, Colonel," Galloway said.

_Damn, he sounds just like the bureaucratic little weasel,_ Weller thought to himself. There was the sudden doubt in his mind that maybe Galloway _was_ human but this thought was quelled when there was another shimmer across his vision, one that briefly revealed the humanoid Decepticon form beneath Galloway's outer shell.

How could no one have not noticed this before? How long had this Pretender been playing its game? How long had it been involved in the affairs of Sector Eight?

Weller felt annoyed at himself for having not noticed anything odd about Galloway earlier. Either that or the Pretender was just damn good at "pretending" to be human. Whatever the case Weller was here now with the ability to see Galloway for what he really was and it was here that Weller would decide to act. No doubt this Pretender, while pretending to be Galloway, had learnt much of Weller and Sector Eight during its time on Earth. No doubt that it had been feeding information to the Decepticons, wherever they might have been. Perhaps this was one reason why the Decepticons had suddenly shown up in Holland: Galloway, or the Pretender pretending to be Galloway, had revealed to the Decepticons via the information gathered by Sector Eight that there was something in Holland that would have interested the Decepticons.

Weller still clutched the case containing the prototype coil rifle and his grip on it was quite strong, strong enough to make his knuckles turn white. If Galloway had noticed this evidence of Weller's nervousness then he showed no sign of it. Rather, Galloway went on to get straight to why they had met here, although Weller had a different reason in mind compared to Galloway's one. Where Galloway was here to talk Weller was here to kill and killing Decepticons was something Weller had learnt to enjoy. Not only Decepticons but Autobots as well since they were all the same to him.

"You're probably wondering why we're meeting here but I feel that it is the only place where we can rely on not being listened in on," Galloway said, "I'm not exactly the paranoid type but what I'm about to tell you is of a somewhat sensitive matter. Mainly the real reason is because I don't like being cooped up in your office…"

"Not the underground type?" Weller asked, trying to act normal and engage in the usual small-talk.

Galloway simply nodded, displaying humanlike tendencies that only furthered Weller's doubts. As if to counteract the Colonel's doubts there was that shimmer across his vision, as if the powers of the All-spark were seeing for him, once again revealing the metal figure underneath Galloway's exterior of flesh, flesh that was most probably organic.

"You know, this better be important," Weller said, noticing that his grip on the case containing the coil rifle had made his knuckles turn white. He eased it slightly, removing most of the tension there. He wasn't about to give away what he knew just because of last minute nerves.

"I was down in my office doing some really important stuff," Weller continued, noticing that Galloway had raised an eyebrow, "and I don't like getting interrupted in the middle of something of importance…"

"Don't worry Colonel," Galloway replied, his voice having taken on a reassuring tone, "I'm sure you'll be intrigued with what I have to tell you. I know I was…"  
_Were you now, you Decepticon son of a bitch?_ Weller had been thinking of simply speaking his mind but he thought against it, keeping the thoughts that threatened to spill out of his mouth verbally to himself.

"Go ahead Theo," Weller said, managing a smile, "enlighten me. Just what could be so damned important that I had to come up here and see you about it?"

Galloway took a moment to answer, thinking about how he would say whatever it was he was going to say. Weller could tell that this Decepticon Pretender had the whole act of "pretending" to be Galloway down to a really convincing act, one that could have fooled anybody. It _had_ fooled everybody up until now.

Weller stood the case down on the floor beside him, keeping it close as he considered his options. He was standing face-to-face with a Decepticon Pretender, the sort of alien robot that barely anyone had encountered before. Weller was slightly nervous, these nerves made even more profound by the throbbing headache he had.

"It's about the Matrix of Leadership," Galloway said after what had seemed like an overly long wait, "I remember you expressed interest in getting hold of it a while ago…"

"As I recall, Theo, that was last year after I had returned from Egypt," Weller said, "and I was only saying it because I was annoyed at the lack of success we had in gaining any useful technology from that battle. Dead Decepticons don't really count for much you know…it's the alien space treasure that counts. And we weren't getting much of that alien space treasure sort of stuff…just dead Decepticons."

Weller could tell that Galloway, or the Decepticon pretending to be Galloway, had absolutely no indication that the Colonel knew what it was. Galloway took a moment to reply, considering the Colonel's words carefully.

"If the All-spark has the power to bring inanimate technology to life, think of what the Matrix of Leadership could do for our cause," Galloway said as his eyes widening with the thoughts about the power such an item would bring, "unlike the All-spark, the Matrix is perfectly intact. According to what I've found out it seems that NEST has it under heavy guard at a military base somewhere out in Arizona. Usually I wouldn't bother to tell you but it seems that one of our benefactors wants us to recover it…"

Weller raised an eyebrow. He could tell that Galloway was lying. It was obvious that the Decepticon Pretender merely wanted the Matrix for its own means, no doubt planning on handing such an item over to whoever was bossing it around. If Weller hadn't known the truth about Galloway he would have gone along with what the man was saying now. However, Weller had the power of the All-spark with him and he could see right through Galloway's lies…no benefactor of theirs wanted them to get the Matrix of Leadership. Weller had the feeling that as soon as he got hold of the item Galloway would just reveal himself as the Pretender he really was and snatch the item out of Weller's cold dead fingers.

Colonel Weller wasn't about to let any robot asshole kill him for some piece of space treasure. Still, he knew he would have to play it safe right now if he was to get through today alive.

"Are you proposing I send a strike force to this base to get the Matrix?" Weller asked, frowning. The doubt in his voice was genuine. Not once had their organization revealed itself to NEST nor actually made any movements against them. This was one reason why they had been able to operate in secrecy from them for so long and still was able to.

Galloway nodded, noticing Weller's apprehensiveness towards the plan. He seemed surprised at the Colonel's reaction but before he could talk Weller cut in before him, causing Galloway to fall silent.

"Making any sort of move against NEST would be unwise," Weller said, "they don't know of the existence of Sector Eight and I would prefer it that things stayed that way. That means that no one's going to attack any military base and get any sort of alien treasure…What would be the point anyway? How would we benefit from this Matrix thing?"

Weller frowned seriously as he said this, his gaze looking right into Galloway's eyes. He could tell that the questions had affected Galloway since the bureaucrat seemed annoyed.

"I thought you wanted every asset you could get in order to eradicate the Autobots and the Decepticons," Galloway said, the annoyance evident in his voice, "I thought you would jump at the chance to get hold of a powerful artefact like the Matrix…"  
Weller smiled as he interrupted the bureaucrat mid-sentence.

"I have something far more important to get hold of," Weller replied, satisfied with the look of surprise that crossed Galloway's features.

The bureaucrat looked doubtful but curious to hear whatever item Weller was interested in.

"What is it?" Galloway asked.

"Some folks call it the Spear of Destiny," Weller replied, "but I'm sure your kind would know it better as the 'Lance of Unicron'."

Immediately Galloway shifted where he stood, a mix of emotions twitching across his face. At first it seemed to be surprise, followed by satisfaction before turning into uncertainty when he noticed the way Weller was looking at him and what the Colonel's last statement had been implying.

"Uh…what do you mean?" Galloway asked, "I don't know about any 'Lance of Unicron…"  
"Bullshit," Weller said bluntly. Within seconds he had pulled out his Magnum revolver from its holster he wore at his waist, holding it up as he pointed it straight at Galloway's face.

Galloway took a surprised step back, his gaze fixed on the gun that was pointed at him. Weller only smiled, waving the gun in an intimidating fashion in front of the bureaucrat's features.

"This here's a Magnum .44," Weller said, referring to the gun, "you and my Magnum are about to get well acquainted. That is, if you don't answer my questions…"

Galloway stuttered, a convincing look of fear appearing on his face. Whatever the Pretender was doing it was trying its best at a convincing interpretation of human fear.

"Colonel, what is the meaning of this?" Galloway asked, sounding frightened, "I…I thought we were…fuh-fuh-friends…"  
Weller laughed when he heard this which only added to Galloway's overall fear. The Colonel abruptly ended his hearty chuckle, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his skull. It caused his eyebrow line to twitch involuntarily while one eyelid flickered shut only briefly, giving the Colonel a rather intimidating and volatile look.

"We were never friends, Theo," Weller said, "and we never will be. I know what you are and there ain't any use in hiding it anymore."

Galloway shook his head, as if he couldn't believe that this was happening. He still looked scared out of his wits but the fear on the bureaucrat's features did little to sway Weller's posture.

"But I've helped you!" Galloway pleaded, "We've worked together for months! What have I done to deserve this?"

"Tell me where the real Galloway is!" Weller demanded, ignoring Galloway's pleads, "or did you kill him? I wouldn't be surprised, you Decepticon piece of…"

"What?! _I'm_ Theodore Galloway! What the hell are you talking about?" Galloway sounded absolutely desperate, on the verge of begging for mercy. Weller didn't budge, certain that he was correct in his assumption that Galloway wasn't human.

"When did you replace him, huh?" Weller asked, an intimidating frown crossing his ageing features, "a few weeks ago? No, maybe a few months? Or have you been Galloway for _years_?"

Galloway took a step back but Weller kept the Magnum trained on him. The Colonel made sure to keep the case containing the coil gun close by, just in case something happened. He had a feeling that it would soon enough.

"Did you kill him?" Weller asked again, "did you murder him just like your kind has murdered so many other innocent people?"

"I tell you now…I'M THEODORE GALLOWAY!" Galloway shouted this at the top of his lungs, sweat appearing on his forehead. Either it was because of the heat or because he was close to wetting his pants. Weller wouldn't be surprised if Galloway _did_ wet himself although something told him that Decepticons didn't need to pee.

"WRONG ANSWER!" Weller shouted in response. He tilted the Magnum and fired, a few chunks of plaster falling from the ceiling above. Galloway jumped back in fright as the shot rang out within the room, leaving a ringing in both men's ears. However, Weller immediately readjusted his aim so that it was pointed straight towards Galloway's face as it had been before.

"I know what you are, you piece of shit," Weller said. His head started to ache again, the pain gradually increasing in magnitude until his vision seemed clouded by it. He grunted, shifting uncertainly where he stood as he tried to shake his head clear of it.

"I'm Theodore Galloway!" Galloway shouted, backing against the wall behind him. Weller stepped forward with the Magnum still raised and aimed at the bureaucrat's head. Galloway looked towards the raised revolver with fear in his eyes, a fear that would have convinced anyone else that he was telling the truth. Unfortunately Weller already knew the truth.

"No, you're not!" Weller shouted. With this statement he fired the revolver, hearing the shot thunder throughout the room. Immediately his head was cleared of its pain and a surprised looking Galloway had stumbled backwards, a smoking hole now dead centre in the bureaucrat's forehead.

Weller lowered the smoking Magnum revolver, watching with some amazement as Galloway remained standing. The hole in the man's forehead was not bleeding and was simply healed over within seconds, being replaced with completely unaffected skin. Galloway looked towards Weller, a wide grin on his face. It was a grin that Weller instantly despised so for good measure the Colonel raised his Magnum again, firing all five remaining rounds into Galloway's chest. Five holes were blown into the man's business suit and shirt but the flesh underneath was healed almost instantly with not a single trace of blood visible.

Galloway began to laugh, his laugh normal at first but as it continued it began to take on a metallic grating tone. Weller took a step back, realizing that he might have just started something he wouldn't be able to finish. Standing ahead of him was no human but some sort of construct, one that was impervious to bullets. Weller started reloading his Magnum but Galloway stepped forwards and slapped it out of his hands with surprising force, sending the revolver flying across the room where it landed well out of the Colonel's reach.

By now the three soldiers from downstairs had raced into the room, rifles raised as they entered slowly and cautiously. They saw the stunned looking Colonel Weller and the crazed looking Theodore Galloway, all three soldiers trying to figure out what had just happened.

It was then that Galloway's flesh melted away as well as the clothing, seemingly disappearing into nothing. What was left standing in his place was a humanoid grey-metal machine, one with all the properties of a standard Decepticon but on a smaller scale. Metal joints creaked and hissed while the red Decepticon eyes regarded the four humans in the room, the Pretender bringing its right arm out. A double-barrelled cannon unpacked itself from the Pretender's forearm and then pointed towards Weller who only gazed at it with utter surprise.

Weller knew better than to stand still though. He knew that this wasn't much of a surprise to him since he had sensed it but there was still some surprise in seeing the way the Pretender had simply taken off its human form. Weller dived to the floor as the dual cannon on the Pretender's right arm fired, the shotgun style shot flying over the Colonel before slamming into the wall across the room.

Chunks of plaster, wood and brickwork were sent flying forth as well as a large cloud of dust. The explosion thundered loudly throughout the room as a large hole was blown into the wall which opened into the next room. Immediately the three soldiers standing near the doorway opened fire with their rifles, the rounds pinging harmlessly off of the Pretender's metal exoskeleton. The bullets only seemed to annoy the Pretender as it swivelled around and fired its dual right arm cannon. Two of the soldiers were blown to smithereens while the other was knocked aside like a rag doll. Pieces of the two blown apart soldiers rained down throughout the room, a severed arm landing close to Weller's head.

Colonel Weller ignored the repulsive sight as he lunged from where he had dived towards the case that contained the coil rifle. He grabbed the case and stood up, hearing the Pretender's arm cannon fire behind him. He dived towards the hole blown into the wall ahead, flying through it and into the nest room as the rest of the wall was blown to smithereens behind him. Chunks of it rained down upon him while dust found its way into his eyes and into his mouth.

Weller coughed and spluttered as he stood up, covered in plaster dust. He glanced behind him, seeing that the Pretender was marching towards him. There was nothing between the two since the wall that had been there was no nothing but a pile of smoking rubble. Weller started running again, this time towards the window ahead.  
Again the Pretender fired and the wall that contained the window exploded around him as Weller smashed through the glass. He suffered a moment of freefall that sent his heart racing, chunks of plaster and shards of wood flying around him as he was sent flying right outside and over the balcony. He caught a brief glance of Galloway's Mercedes that was parked below and the Colonel braced himself for impact, closing his eyes as he landed smack into the Mercedes' windscreen.

The windscreen shattered and Weller was left lying on his back with pains all over his body. It took him a moment to regain his senses, finding that he still clutched the case in one hand. Relieved, he rolled off of the ruined car and onto the ground just as the Pretender appeared at the hole blown into the hotel above. Without hesitation it jumped straight off of the balcony, landing only a few metres ahead of the Colonel with a dull _thump!_

The two soldiers standing at the front of the hotel opened fire but the Pretender turned around and blasted both men away with two quick shots, sending one of the soldiers flying through a window behind him. Weller seized the opportunity that this distraction had given him, rising back onto his feet while simultaneously opening the latches on the case. He snatched the prototype coil rifle from within the case, letting the case drop to the ground as he brought the rifle to bear on the Pretender.

"What are yah, some kind of Terminator wannabe?!" Weller shouted just as the Pretender turned its gaze back to him.

Without hesitation Weller fired the coil rifle, the round slamming into the right shoulder of the Pretender. The right arm was sheared clean away and the Pretender stumbled, sparks flying from the stump that was left behind. It managed to emit a surprised sounding metallic groan, one that satisfied Weller immensely.

Again the Colonel fired, this round slamming into the Pretender's other one and blowing it right off. Without letting up he fired another four rounds, three of which blew gaping holes in the Pretender's chest. The last round hit the Pretender square in the face, blowing away half of its head and sending what looked to be orange looking molten metal flying outwards.

Weller wanted to make sure the Pretender was dead, able to see that it was still twitching despite its sorry state. He stepped forwards and fired another two rounds of the coil rifle into what was left of the head of the Pretender. When it had stopped moving Weller lowered the smoking weapon, peering curiously down at his kill before managing a large beaming smile.

He had killed it. He had single-handedly killed a Decepticon!

_Damn, I'm good._

He took a look down at the coil rifle that had helped him to achieve this, figuring that this weapon could find a place in his collection. However, before he could think much more about what he had just done he heard footsteps off to his left, inciting the Colonel to swivel around to see who it was.

Captain Xander Farnell approached with a surprised gaze, looking uncertainly towards the dead Decepticon Pretender. Weller smiled, nodding towards the dead Pretender.

"That thing was pretending to be Galloway," Weller said bluntly, "so I killed it…"

"Uh…right…" Farnell shifted his gaze to the battered and dirty looking Colonel, trying to keep his composure as he delivered some vital news to the Colonel.

"What is it, Captain?" Weller asked.

"It's to do with that machine that you built," Farnell explained, "it seems that the…uh…well, the GPS on it seems to have picked up something…"

Weller raised an eyebrow. He couldn't be sure if he had actually programmed in the right energy signature but he was sure he had been close to doing it. If the machine had picked up something then there was no doubt that it was worth investigating, especially if it was probably the Spear of Destiny.

"Whereabouts has it detected something, Captain?" Weller asked, his eyes lighting up with expectancy, "is it the Spear?"

"Possibly, sir," Farnell replied, "but I can't be sure."

Weller leaned forwards having grown impatient of the Captain's dilly-dallying.

"Just tell me where, Captain," Weller said.

Farnell managed another look down at the dead Pretender before answering, as if he still thought that it was still alive. Weller had made sure that it wasn't although it was damn hard to kill a Decepticon.

"In Austria, sir," Captain Farnell replied, "in Vienna."

Weller smiled. No doubt then that the Spear was there, unless the machine had picked up something else instead. Regardless they would head off immediately and investigate.

"I'm taking this with me," Weller replied, holding up the coil rifle, "never know what sort of trouble we might run into since I'm damn sure there are others after the Spear."


	28. Recovery

**Recovery  
**Outside of the city of Groningen, Holland  
December 15th, 2010

The early morning sun had risen partway over the horizon, providing the landscape with a dawn to a fresh new day. Parts of the airfield were being cleaned up from the previous day's events while cargo transport planes were parked ready for departure on the runway. NEST personnel milled about, packing things away and gathering near the parked planes. The Dutch military personnel here had been told to not ask any questions as the dead Decepticons were loaded onto waiting transports bound for the nearest set of docks in order to be shipped back to the United States.

The official death toll of the previous day's events had just been tallied. About two hundred and thirty seven Dutch military personnel had been killed and another thirty wounded, a sure indication that the Decepticons were good at killing. About fifteen NEST soldiers had been killed and another two wounded while at least ten civilians had met their untimely ends during the previous night's operation in the city of Groningen. As well as this a whole power plant had almost been destroyed while many civilians had seen more than NEST would have wanted them to. Many civilians had seen the Autobots and the Decepticons in their true forms while others had even witnessed the fighting that had taken place between the two opposing sides. Most of these witnesses had been out on the streets and at the power plant and many had began to spread the stories around while NEST teams went on to lay down a cover story.

As usual it would be the "robot drones out of control" cover story since it was the most credible one they could come up with for the context. McLaren Robotics trucks were currently in the process of going around and cleaning up the mess made by the fighting within the city the night before, giving the impression that a legitimate robot company was involved. The truth was far from it being about a bunch of "rogue drones" though and no doubt some civilians would start spreading rumours about what they had seen, further undermining the secrecy of NEST.

In a secluded corner of the airfield, well out of the way of the hustle-and-bustle that was underway on the runway, was a rundown disused hangar that had been turned into a makeshift storage area over the years. Within were stacks of discarded containers and equipment, some of it dating back at least two decades.

It was here that the Autobots with NEST had set up their own personal hang-out area, keeping themselves hidden from the Dutch airfield personnel that were milling about outside. It was here that a comatose Jolt had been laid down, Ratchet having spent the night trying to determine just what exactly was wrong with the young Autobot.

Ratchet had heard of what had happened to Ironhide the day before and had even taken the time to see his friend's body, having paid his respects the night before. It startled him to think that Centurion was on Earth but Ratchet and the other remaining Autobots here on this planet knew that it was their duty to stop him from carrying out whatever nefarious scheme he had in mind. Centurion was here for a reason and he had even managed to get Megatron and Starscream involved. It was certainly some important scheme that Centurion had in mind, one that very likely threatened everyone on this very planet.

Ratchet had heard of what had happened in the human city of Groningen the night before and knew how Breakaway had almost gotten himself killed when confronting Centurion by himself. That much was to expected of that Autobot and Ratchet could already see the trouble Breakaway could cause on future operations such as this. There was no room in their ranks for a gung-ho Autobot but it seemed that Optimus disagreed with Ratchet's point of view, making it absolutely clear that Breakaway was to stay in their group. He was simply too valuable, being the only airborne one in their team and was an expert reconnaissance gatherer.

Last night Ratchet had spent most of his time keeping an eye on the unconscious Jolt who was laid out on the floor nearby. The young Autobot was still alive although his life signs were erratic, as if he was troubled by constant dreams. There didn't seem to be much else wrong with him save for the foreign "virus" that seemed to have infiltrated his physiology, not actually doing anything but still able to be detected. Ratchet wasn't sure what to think when it came to this "virus" since it had ceased multiplying, instead centring itself on Jolt's robotic "brain" where it remained idle.

Whatever Centurion had done to Jolt it hadn't killed the Autobot, having merely sent him into a comatose state that Ratchet likened to a standard bout of sleeping. No doubt Jolt would wake up eventually but other than wait Ratchet could do little else but observe the young Autobot and hope that he hadn't missed out on anything important that might spell life or death for Jolt.

Earlier this morning Optimus and the others had returned from the Decepticon hunting operation in the city of Groningen. Apparently they had managed to eliminate both Decepticons that had been on the loose within the city but Centurion, somewhat unsurprisingly, had escaped. The plan now was to return to Diego Garcia and discuss what had happened and how they would combat the return of Centurion, Megatron and Starscream. However, it seemed that their original plan had been put on hold.

General Morshower had made contact with Major Lennox over a secure line within one of the airfield's main buildings and was most likely delivering a new set of orders. This coincided with Breakaway's detection of more of the strange energy that seemed to be left in Centurion's wake wherever he went and Optimus had ordered Breakaway to follow the energy readings. Breakaway had departed about an hour ago, following in the energy trail that Centurion had left in his wake as he soared over the European countryside. Until further word from Breakaway they would all remain at the airfield.

Ratchet did feel some animosity towards Jolt, primarily because Jolt had been the only one with Ironhide at the time of his death. If it had been Ratchet in place of Jolt maybe things might have turned out differently, maybe Ironhide would still be alive…

Ratchet cleared his head of these thoughts. He was only angered by Ironhide's death, just as everybody else was. From what he had heard of Centurion it seemed that the Decepticon was near unstoppable. It was safe to say that Ratchet would have met a similar fate as Jolt if he had gone in place of the young Autobot. Still, there was the possibility that things might have turned out differently. He was yet to actually encounter Centurion and so did not know how a single Decepticon could be "unstoppable" as he apparently was.

He was still thinking about all of this when Jolt stirred where he lay, only just coming out of his unconscious state. Ratchet helped the young Autobot onto his feet, running a quick scan to see if there was anything wrong with him. There wasn't save for the "virus" that had isolated itself in Jolt's neural centre.

Jolt still looked dazed though, taking a look at his surroundings with some confusion in his blue eyes. He saw Ratchet and a look of relief crossed his metallic features when he found that he was in absolutely no danger at all.

"What happened?" Jolt asked, standing back up with some unsteadiness. He did manage to control his balance, looking towards Ratchet and then at the surrounding hangar interior. He put a hand to his face, tracing the burns that had been left there after his encounter with Centurion. He seemed surprised at first at discovering them but he quickly composed himself, shaking his head as if his memory of what had happened was a mere blur.

"I was hoping you could tell me, Jolt," Ratchet said, "you've been out since you returned yesterday. Don't you remember?"

Jolt seemed to consider this for a moment, searching his mind for any clue as to what had happened between him and Centurion. He didn't seem to find any and so shook his head. However, his eyes did widen with some realization when he remembered one fact in particular.

"Where's Ironhide?" He asked suddenly, struggling to remember the exact events through the blurred haze that was his memory, "is he alright?"

Ratchet had been unsurprised to hear the question and so simply shook his head, knowing that it was unlikely that the exact way Centurion had managed to gain the upper hand over Ironhide would remain unknown. It annoyed him slightly to think the only witness other than Centurion couldn't remember what had happened to Ironhide for him to get killed.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Jolt is, remembering this much. He stumbled from the sudden realization, as if it had hit him with considerable force. He shook his head again, looking disbelieving at first.

"It's my fault he's dead," he added, guilt seeping into his voice, "I should have seen Centurion coming…"

"Don't blame yourself, Jolt," Ratchet said in a reassuring manner, "Ironhide would have gone down fighting…"

What Jolt said next struck Ratchet as somewhat odd but was perhaps a further indication that he could remember parts of what had happened.

"Ironhide died taken by surprise, hardly the death he would have wanted," Jolt said, his tone changing from guilt-ridden to serious and dark, "you could say that he never knew what hit him…"

Ratchet could see that Jolt wasn't quite in his right mind and let the statement slide. Whatever Centurion had done to Jolt it had left the young Autobot rattled mentally.

There was still the matter of the anomaly, or "virus" that was isolated to Jolt's nervous system. So far it had done nothing but stay idle but Ratchet thought that the Autobot deserved to know what was wrong with him, if there was actually anything "wrong".

"I have detected an anomaly residing within your nervous system," Ratchet said, steering the topic away from Ironhide's death which was probably a move for the best.

Jolt looked up with the robotic equivalent of a frown appearing on his partially scorched metal face.

"What sort of anomaly?" Jolt asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Ratchet felt like a doctor delivering bad news to a patient. Perhaps that was just what he was doing, although it was hard to determine whether the news was "bad".

"I think it could be some sort of virus, but if it is it hasn't actually done anything. Unlike a virus it isn't multiplying exponentially, thus I have my doubts as to whether calling it a 'virus' is an accurate description," Ratchet explained.

Jolt did seem a little perplexed as to how this anomaly could have found its way into his systems but the answer, if any, was unknown to both him and Ratchet.

"An anomaly?" Jolt kept the frown as he thought through the implications of this sort of development. "How did that get there?"

"Can you remember what happened when you encountered Centurion?" Ratchet asked, although the answer was obvious from Jolt's perplexed gaze.

There was little Ratchet could do about the anomaly and little he could find out about it. Whatever Centurion had done it was obvious that he had planted this sort of anomaly, or "virus" within Jolt for some specific purpose. As much as Ratchet would have liked to keep Jolt under observation for a while he knew that this would be nigh on impossible since they were in the middle of a major operation. It seemed likely that they would be receiving the order to move out soon enough, probably once Lennox was off the phone from General Morshower.

"I can't remember a thing," Jolt replied, "it's as if that part of my memory has been reduced to a blur…an indiscernible haze…"

Ratchet nodded although deep down he was frustrated at the lack of information. So far they had managed to discover very little about Centurion or why he was here. Information was something currently in short supply when it came to Centurion. Up until yesterday Ratchet had always thought that Centurion had been dead, the Decepticon having disappeared along with Optimus' son on Cybertron. It had been generally believed that both of them had died or been lost forever, but as with all lost things they turned up eventually…The implications were startling, since if Centurion was around then no doubt Deadeye would be as well. Ratchet wondered what Optimus was thinking right now, about whether it was more than just wishful thinking that Deadeye could be on Earth as well.

"Just rest easy for a while, Jolt," Ratchet said, "don't get too comfortable though. Chances are we'll be moving out soon since our work here in Holland is just about done."

Jolt nodded but he didn't seem to take well to the "rest easy" part and instead started for the hangar's door. Ratchet turned and started following, startled as the Autobot's sudden tenacity.

"You should take it easy, Jolt!" Ratchet called after him, walking into pace alongside him, "we still don't know what the anomaly inside you is…I would prefer it if you let me observe you for a few days…"

Jolt stopped at the hangar doors, peering through the gap between the two doors and outside. Just outside this hangar were several metal containers while the Twins, Skids and Mudflap, stood nearby quietly talking amongst themselves. A pair of Dutch jet fighters roared overhead, briefly grabbing Jolt's attention before he turned around and looked back at Jolt.

"Where are the others?" He asked.

"They're outside somewhere, I'm not sure where exactly," Ratchet said, He put a hand on Jolt's shoulder, inclining the Autobot to take a few steps back inside.

"They don't matter right now, Jolt," Ratchet added whilst turning the fellow Autobot so they were looking at each other face-to-face, "what matters is that you have to stay here, with me, so I can keep you under observation. I don't know what Centurion did to you but I would prefer to keep watch on you for a few days, just to make sure there's no threat to your health. After all, I'm the medic here and I know what's best for you, whether you like me telling you that or not."

Jolt considered Ratchet's words for a moment. It was obvious he didn't quite like the idea of being restricted to this hangar for now but Ratchet had managed to present a fairly convincing case and the tone to go with it.

"Just stay here, Jolt," Ratchet said, "we'll be moving out soon, anyway. Now that you're awake we can try piecing together what happened between you and Centurion. I'm sure the memories are there, they're just hazy…"

"You think something's wrong with me, don't you?" Jolt asked, his voice taking on an accusing tone, "I can tell by the way you're looking at me. You don't think I'm in my right mind…"

Ratchet would have been lying if he had said "no" to that question. Rather, he could see that Jolt already knew the answer and was understandably annoyed about it.

There was something that didn't quite add up. It wasn't just the anomalous "virus" within Jolt's nervous system. It was the mannerisms of the Autobot that had seemed to change, even if Jolt himself didn't realize it. Whatever Centurion had done it had affected Jolt in a mental manner rather than physical, although the scorch marks that were on parts of his face hinted that some sort of fight had occurred between him and Centurion.

"Just stay here with me, Jolt," Ratchet said, "we'll try and piece together what happened."

Jolt only nodded, agreeing to this plan even though there was some noticeable annoyance on his metallic features. Ratchet could only think that there was indeed something not quite right about Jolt, even if it wasn't too obvious what exactly was wrong with him.

* * *

Major William Lennox placed the phone back on the receiver, looking up from the table towards where Master Sergeant Epps and Captain Graham were standing. The three of them were inside one of the offices in the airfield's main administration building and they were the only three people in the office, the door being locked to keep out unwanted listeners. Specifically those unwanted listeners would have been the airfield's Dutch Commander or any of the other support staff here.

It had been about half an hour ago that General Morshower had managed to reach them via a secure phone line. Lennox and his team, as well as the Autobots with them had all been thinking that they would be able to get back to Diego Garcia today and had even arranged for the cargo transports here to get ready to take them back to the island base. Unfortunately a few things had come up, starting with the detection of the energy trail that went straight over the Holland border and into Germany. This was no doubt Centurion on his way to wherever, using his Cybertronian jet form as a quick means to get around. Breakaway had naturally been the one suited to following the Decepticon, forced to follow the trail of energy residue that Centurion left in his wake rather than the Decepticon himself. As they all knew getting an exact fix on Centurion was impossible and this made trying to find the Decepticon an infuriating task indeed.

Then Morshower had called with news of some important developments. Lennox had carefully picked up the phone earlier, unsure of what the General wanted to tell him.

Lennox, Epps and Graham were all tired and in need of baths. Understandably they had had little sleep because of what had happened last night in the city of Groningen. As well as this Lennox doubted he would have been able to get to sleep anyway, still in a bit of a daze after all that had happened. There was a near unstoppable Decepticon on the loose, both Megatron and Starscream had returned _and _Ironhide was dead. It was only now on the day after these things had occurred that they were all beginning to feel the full weight of these events.

Lennox rubbed his eyes, somewhat annoyed at what Morshower had just told him over the phone. The call had lasted about fifteen minutes since Lennox had tried to argue his side but arguing with someone like Morshower was never destined to end well.

Both Epps and Graham had stood watching and listening to the call as it took place, able to gather the gist of the conversation from what Lennox had said into the phone. Now Lennox sat at the table within the well-adorned room, rubbing his eyes as he combated exhaustion. His muscles ached and his eyes threatened to fall shut at any moment yet there was simply too much on his mind for him to be able to get to sleep easily.

General Morshower had had some news for Lennox. Apparently two Autobots named Smokescreen and Depthcharge had showed up at Diego Garcia. Lennox had found their arrival on Earth somewhat convenient since it had only been yesterday that an Autobot had been killed. The death of Ironhide was something that Lennox found demoralising at the very least, just as Optimus Prime's apparent death last year before his resurrection had been demoralising. Ironhide had acted as the Lennox family car on more than one occasion and so the Autobot had had some significant part in Major Lennox's life. His abrupt death only angered Lennox, even if Ironhide had been an alien robot from some faraway planet.

Morshower had continued detailing the mission he had sent both Smokescreen and Depthcharge on. It seemed that both Megatron and Starscream had headed for Tranquility, Nevada for some reason and so Morshower had sent Smokescreen and Depthcharge to keep an eye on both Decepticons in order to find out just what they were doing. It seemed likely that both of them were after Sam Witwicky but chances are Sam wouldn't even be in his home town. There would have had to be another reason, one that NEST had failed to pick up on…

Then Morshower had detailed what he wanted Lennox to do next. Lennox, his team as well as the Autobots with them were to pursue Centurion wherever he went in order to stop the Decepticon from doing any further damage. This would be difficult, as Lennox had argued: Centurion was unlike any Decepticon they had been up against before. Centurion was protected by an impenetrable energy shield and he had already managed to kill one Autobot so there was a good chance he might kill some more. Losing more Autobots would be crippling to the whole of NEST but Morshower had made it explicitly clear what he wanted them to do.

Centurion was on his way across Europe, presumably headed for why he was on Earth. If this was the case then Lennox, his team and the Autobots were to follow Centurion and try and figure out why he was on Earth as well as prevent him from doing anymore damage. He had already managed to take out a natural gas power plant in Groningen, although that incident had been partly Breakaway's fault.

Lennox had argued that it was probably best if they returned to Diego Garcia in order to better plan their next move. So far the mild success they had had in this operation had been overshadowed by the death of Ironhide and their failure in stopping Centurion. There was no use in rushing headlong into another confrontation with the Autobot, especially when Decepticon activity on Earth had suddenly increased in the last twenty-four hours. It seemed that they were popping up all over the planet, as if they had been in hiding and waiting for this sort of thing to occur in order to incite them to come out of hiding. So far a military base in Florida had been hit hard by a few Decepticons while contact with a harbour facility in Alaska had been lost. Morshower detailed each of these occurrences to Lennox over the phone, his tone of voice grim as they both realized what this meant.

The war had started up again. Not only that but there would have had to be some reason as to why this had occurred and this was why Morshower wanted them to follow and try and stop Centurion. It was Centurion's arrival that had incited Decepticons to start coming out of hiding in several locations across the planet. What worried Morshower was that more were on their way, an assumption that had been proven by the message Centurion himself had sent out into space. According to Breakaway, this message mentioned the names of two particular Decepticons: Prometheus and Warmonger.

None of the Autobots were too sure on just who these two were but Optimus had managed to shed some light on Prometheus. It seemed that Prometheus had been a close friend of Centurion for a time until he had left Cybertron in search of the All-spark, as had many other Decepticons. Apparently Prometheus had a thing for setting stuff on fire and blowing things up. In fact, it was probably safe to assume that Prometheus was as crazy as Centurion.

Lennox sat considering the conversation he had just had, leaning back in his seat and looking towards Epps and Graham. Epps had raised an eyebrow, seeming to have a good idea of what they were going to have to do next.

"So, where exactly are we headed?" He asked, "I gathered that we're moving out to pursue Centurion, but where to? Isn't he like…still flying over Germany or someplace like that?"

"Breakaway's on Centurion's arse," Graham added, "I don't see why we have to do much else except follow the Decepticon bastard. We already tried taking him on…twice. We failed both times. Shouldn't we try and figure out a better plan of approach? Obviously taking him head-on isn't working out…"

"What kind of plan?" Lennox heard the anger in his voice and saw the startled reaction from both Epps and Graham. He quickly composed himself, thinking that it was merely the stress that was beginning to get to him.

"I don't know," Graham admitted, shrugging, "all I know is that this is all way over our heads. Since when did a Decepticon have an impenetrable force field protecting him? Since when did Decepticons have any interest in Holland?"

Lennox and Epps shrugged. This operation was a complete mess and it still wasn't over. Morshower wanted them to chase a Decepticon across Europe, a move that only seemed to be a waste of time. Of course, Morshower was under pressure to keep collateral damage to a minimum and there was no doubt in any of their minds that Centurion was the type who _enjoyed_ causing collateral damage.

"He's after something," Epps suggested, "They always are, aren't they? There's probably something somewhere in Europe that Centurion wants…we just have to find out what. And when we find out what he wants we can keep it away from him."

Lennox frowned although he did see the logic in Epps' suggestion. However, there was one fatal flaw in the Master Sergeant's scheme and Lennox pointed it out to him.

"Do you have any idea about what he wants?" Lennox asked, "Because I don't."

Epps shook his head. So did Graham.

"Orders are orders," Lennox said resignedly, standing up. He flexed the aching muscles in his arms but this did little to ease his near exhaustion.

"We're to pursue Centurion and find out what he wants," Lennox continued, "and that means we're going to move out as soon as possible…"

Lennox's radio crackled into life at that moment, Breakaway's voice managing to make its way through some interference. The interference implied that Centurion was close to the Autobot, an indication that Breakaway had managed to pursue the Decepticon in a well enough manner.

"_Major, this is Breakaway,"_ Breakaway said, _"Centurion's made a landing…"_

Lennox exchanged glances with both Epps and Graham as he replied. No doubt they would have to move out immediately if Centurion had indeed touched down somewhere.

"I hear you. Whereabouts is he?" Lennox asked. The answer he received was only a little surprising but then again he guessed that Centurion had a thing for visiting old European cities.

"_He's outside Vienna, in Austria,_" Breakaway replied, _"I think he intends on going into the city. Do I have permission to engage?"_

"No!" Lennox ordered, his tone blunt. Breakaway had almost gotten himself killed last night when he had taken on Centurion by himself and he had disobeyed direct orders. "You are to keep watch on him and that is all. Is that understood?"

"_Yes, Major,"_ Breakaway replied, the disappointment clearly audible in his voice.

How long would it take them to get to Vienna? Lennox realized that even on their cargo transports it would take a while to fly to Austria and by that time Centurion could be wreaking havoc within the city. Lennox swore under his breath, looking towards Epps and Graham.

"Go on, get the others ready," Lennox said, "We've got to get to Vienna right away!"


	29. Thoughts of a Madman

**The Thoughts of a Madman  
**Vienna, Austria  
December 15th, 2010

Snow had begun to lightly fall upon the Austrian landscape. It was only about two weeks into winter here so it would take some time before the snow was thick enough to become a nuisance but it was falling nonetheless. Already it had begun to pile up parts of the landscape whilst a cold and merciless breeze wafted across, winding its way through the old winding streets of outer Vienna.

Vienna was the cultural, political and historical capital of Austria. It was home to close to two million people and consisted of a mix of old and new buildings, most consisting of that central European architecture that was common around these parts. The city lay near the country's Alps and as a result these towering mountains were visible on the horizon. Above the sky was overcast and snow fell at a steady rate, slowly casting a white powdery look upon the old city.

There was an open field a short distance from the outskirts of the city, one that was high enough on a hill to provide a decent vantage point for anyone who might have been standing on the hill, facing towards the city. The green grass had been frosted over in the cold morning and now snow had begun to pile up across it, crunching loudly under one's footsteps. It was about ten o'clock in the morning (local time) and it would seem to be an absolutely ordinary day, with the people within the city going about their own business, oblivious to the fact that they were being observed from afar.

Being observed in itself wasn't an uncommon notion since there were surveillance cameras outside any self-respecting establishment and within them as well. However, it was the nature of who was watching them that would have struck both incredulity and fear into the hearts of the ordinary citizens of Vienna. The observations made by the tall and intimidating figure upon the hill wouldn't have been surprising to anyone who was familiar with him.

Centurion stood upon the hill, his vision fixed on the city below. Only recently he had reverted back to his Cybertronian form, discarding the alternate mode of the old German Panzer tank. Such a vehicle mode would have only gained him more attention from the humans than anything else. Besides, why would he need a disguise? He was the most powerful Decepticon who had ever lived, more powerful than Megatron or Starscream. He could do what he wanted and that meant he could walk around without having to worry about what the humans would do to him. Their weapons were useless against him and he could brush aside their soldiers like they were mere insects. In fact, these humans _were_ insects to him and he would treat them as such. He could crush them under foot if he felt like it or swat them away with a sweep of one arm.

His Cybertronian form was a silver grey with jagged armour across most of his figure. His eyes glowed a malevolent red colour, fuelled by the inner madness that any other Cybertronian could sense within him. His alternate mode of the Cybertronian jet allowed him to travel from Point A to Point B quickly and efficiently. The technology of the humans could barely detect him so he could get around freely without having to waste his time with swatting any human aircraft out of the skies that decided to try and intercept him mid-flight.

However, there was one problem he was facing right now and it concerned the "Divine Device" Unicron had given him all those years ago. It had imbued Centurion with great power but without it he had been stuck with using what little of the power stored within his reserves, hence the reason his personal shield flickered unsteadily as if it was struggling to keep itself running. Soon it would die altogether and he would become as vulnerable as any other Cybertronian although he wasn't about to tell his enemies this. He would have to keep the impression of ultimate power if he was to prevent Megatron or Starscream from getting any ideas about opposing him.

The Divine Device was, as he had been assured, only able to be used by him and no one else. Unicron had specifically crafted it for him in order to aid in his quest to find the inter-dimensional corridor powerful enough to bring Unicron out of his prison. Hence why Centurion had sent Megatron and Starscream after that instead of the Lance (or Spear, depending on who you asked): they would not be able to use it, only he could. The Spear, however, could be wielded by anyone who had even the slightest idea of how it worked. He could not allow such a powerful item to fall into either Megatron's or Starscream's hands.

He could remember his life on Cybertron before the war but it all seemed like a dream now, as if those memories seemed so "false" that he wasn't able to take them as "real". Centurion had been born by the All-spark as all other members of his race had. As with all other members of his race he had found a task that he was good at and that he liked and had set to doing it as a sort of "career".

He had been a craftsman, building things and fixing things. He knew how the technology of his race worked and he could do things with it that no one else could. For most of his younger life he had build and improved upon the technology of his race, becoming one of the most renowned engineers in the city where he had lived.

As with everybody else he had had a personal life as well. The memories of his personal life seemed more dream-like than the others and he thought back on them with indifference, unable to quite work out hw his life had gone from being a renowned engineer to one of the most powerful Decepticons in existence. He could remember his parents ("parents" for Cybertronians was a slightly different sort of idea when compared to the parents of humans. Parents for Cybertronians involved each of the two supplying some part of their chemical makeup to the All-spark in order to create an offspring that was a mix of both "parents". The resulting offspring would be raised and cared for by those "parents" just like in any ordinary human family).

His parents were long dead but he could still remember them, just only slightly. His father had been a stern, authoritative officer in the Cybertron defence force and had always been somewhat doubtful of his son's abilities. He had been unimpressed with the whole "engineer" thing Centurion had gotten himself into, having assumed that his son would become as highly a decorated officer as he himself had been. According to him a career in the military was the "most honourable career" someone could get themselves into. Centurion hadn't cared much for what his father had said about the military and choice of career, preferring to "go his own way" as he had once put it.

His mother, on the other hand, had been the type who was willing to allow her son to "go his own way". She had often argued with his father about all sorts of things but strangely enough (he found it strange as he thought back on it now) the two had always stayed together, even if they had ceased liking each other after a while. Perhaps they had felt obligated to stay with the other, if only to keep Centurion in a full family in order for him to be raised "right". A lot of these arguments (and yelling matches) had been about Centurion's choices about what he wanted to do.

As he grew from mere protoform to a full adult the dislike between his parents had become far clearer. He had tried to ignore them when they yelled at one another and he tried his best to ignore them when they went about trashing their home in fits of rage. Eventually it had culminated with his father sending him off to a military academy against his mother's wishes.

At the academy Centurion had found that there was room for his knack with engineering. He gained friends and received acclaim from his instructors for his ability with technology and machinery as well as his natural talent with weapons. Maybe the military hadn't been so bad, maybe his father had been right after all…"the most honourable career" indeed. How being a combat engineer could be deemed "honourable" was beyond him but Centurion stayed at that military academy and graduated several solar cycles later.

He could remember some of his friends there, some of whom were still alive now. He could remember Megatron, the closest he had ever had to a "rival" when it came to combat training. Both Centurion and Megatron had been ranked the highest in their classes when it came to using weaponry but the two, rather than grow a dislike for each other, had developed something of a friendship. Unfortunately that friendship was close to gone now.

There had been Ironhide, the burly Cybertronian who had always been fascinated with weaponry. He had always been ranked underneath Centurion and Megatron when it came to using weaponry but he had went on to take more specialized courses, resulting in him becoming a heavy weapons specialist. Both he and Centurion had been good friends, yet when Centurion thought back now he couldn't remember how the friendship had sprung up.

Oh well, it didn't matter now. He had killed Ironhide, impaling him right through his spark and thus ensured that he was dead. Centurion felt no remorse at killing an old friend. He had grown beyond feeling any remorse for anything he did. Now he was simply concentrating his mind on the task at hand, the one that would bring the most powerful Cybertronian in existence into this reality. According to what Unicron had told him he had travelled from alternate reality to alternate reality, conquering and devouring worlds at his leisure. It had been in this one, this one reality of the infinite amount that existed that had proven to be his mistake. Somehow, someone had banished him to the void that flowed between the infinite amount of alternate realities. Whoever had done this had sealed off the portal forever and now it was Centurion's job to get it open again.

Still, he thought of his younger years. There had been Depthcharge, that rather serious Cybertronian he had developed a friendship with at the academy. Again Centurion couldn't remember just how the friendship had begun since it was so long ago but he could remember the many conversations they had had, the many things they had done together. He had given up having friends when he had met Unicron so the memories he had of this almost dreamlike early life he had once had seemed only that: dreams. They were all dreams. He didn't need friends, not when he had a God on his side. Unicron was the only one he ever needed to be "friends" with.

There had, of course, been the few females he had met during his younger years. There had been one at the academy, he couldn't really remember her name…She had been more scientifically minded but she had liked him and he had liked her and that's all that had really mattered when he thought back on it. Through his hazy memories Centurion could barely remember just how this relationship had fallen apart but he thought that it had to do with her getting sent off on some archaeological dig, the first of her scientific pursuits. That had been the last he had seen of her but not the last of his liaisons.

There had been others after that, about three if he could remember correctly. Two had been military minded while the last one had been an engineer like him. The last one had been named Flareup, a reckless but competent hot-head soldier that had instantly sparked a liking for the burly Centurion.

Centurion had by now departed from the military to become a full time engineer, still carrying with him the weapon handling know-how he had learnt. He had figured that a military career hadn't really been for him since he liked engineering far too much. Besides, at the time he hadn't been quite fond of the idea of going into combat against any enemy, not that the Cybertronians had had many at the time.

For a while life had been easy: Centurion was making a good living and he and Flareup had moved in together, furthering their relationship. These had been good times although he vaguely remembered them now, these memories of his past life being clouded and hard to even think of. It was as if the part of him that kept these memories was dying or even already dead, hinting that he had undergone many changes since then. He had changed and drastically at that.

He had stumbled upon a powerful energy source purely by accident during an experiment with the All-spark. The Cybertronians knew little of the All-spark so they had assigned him as one member of a team who had been created in order to research it. Centurion had suffered a near fatal overload during the accident but he had been exposed to the very energy that flowed from the All-spark as well as something else…something far more powerful that seemed to come from outside the very dimension he was in.

He had spent much time researching it and attempting to replicate the conditions of the experiment. Some would say he had been consumed with his obsession to uncover this powerful energy source. This might have been correct since he had spent little time with Flareup afterwards and she had left him.

By then Centurion had no longer cared about what she thought of him. He had known that he was on the verge of a major discovery, one that had the potential to revolutionize their race's technology. Unfortunately, on the one time that he had successfully rediscovered the powerful energy source something went horribly wrong. Some sort of inter-dimensional rift had opened and he had been drawn into it, finding himself in the fiery, rippling "void" that flowed between alternate realties. It was here that he had met Unicron and the Fallen and it was here that he had changed.

Unicron had showed him things, things that had driven others before him insane. Some might say that Centurion had gone insane, just not enough to make him kill himself as others had done. Unicron had shown him many alternate realities that he had since tainted with his presence, devouring whole worlds in an effort to keep himself going. Centurion had been witness to more than one of these planet devouring occurrences, yet each time Unicron had been drawn back into the void since he was unable to keep himself within the one reality. It seemed that something had occurred long ago to put Unicron "out of synch" with reality, hence he could only spend a limited time outside of the void before he had to return in fear of being rendered "non existent".

Centurion's arrival in the void had been somewhat convenient for Unicron as well as the Fallen. In millions of alternate realities there was something known as the "Portal", something capable of bringing Unicron into the one reality and allowing him free reign without the restrictions. He could conquer and devour the worlds he wanted but he would be contained to the one reality. This he had cared little about, preferring to be able to reign over the one universe than be forced to pass through others without much influence.

Centurion had been put in awe of Unicron's powers and as such had submitted himself to his service without much thought. It was safe to assume that Unicron had done something to Centurion's mind in order to make him submit himself but whatever had happened only Unicron knew. The memories that Centurion had were fragmented and broken, hinting that Unicron had attempted to rub his past life out in order to create a "clean slate".

Unicron had given Centurion the Divine Device, the one capable of harnessing the powerful energy source and thus imbue Centurion with powers that only other Decepticons were able to dream about. Centurion had worked with the Fallen in attempting to find a means of returning to this reality, the one from where Centurion came. They had succeeded after a time but in a place like the void "time" meant little. It had in fact been thousands of years before Centurion had found an inter-dimensional "door" back into his own reality.

Centurion had had a distinct distrust of the Fallen and so had denied him entrance into this reality, instead betraying him as he closed the inter-dimensional portal after his arrival. From what Centurion had gathered from his time on Earth, the Fallen had been killed at the hands of Optimus Prime. This would allow Centurion to not have to worry about him anymore, having known that one day the Fallen would have wanted to track him down and enact his revenge.

The war between the Autobots and Decepticons had since been underway when Centurion had returned. Immediately Centurion had gone about recruiting followers, using the powers the Divine Device had given him in order to influence those that might have opposed him. He had pulled a similar sort of thing with the Autobot known as "Jolt". It wouldn't be long before Jolt would come searching for him, his allegiance towards Centurion.

Centurion had learnt of how Megatron had started the war and had figured that perhaps installing himself as leader of the Decepticons in place of Megatron would help to further his own goals. Unfortunately the coup he had arranged had failed more because of the incompetence of his followers than anything else (never blame yourself, Centurion knew this well). During the war Centurion had gained many followers and killed many of those that had opposed him, Autobot and Decepticon alike.

After the failed coup Centurion had retreated to a makeshift headquarters, spending time in order to build a sort of teleport unit that would take him to where the Portal could be activated from. When he had been in the process of using this teleport unit the three Autobots had arrived, the ones that had interfered with his plans: Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Deadeye. The teleport unit had overloaded and sent both him and Deadeye to Earth, off target and in the middle of some large scale human war.

Centurion was somewhat satisfied with his killing of Ironhide. That was one of the three interlopers down. He was fairly certain that Deadeye was dead which only left the Prime. He hadn't been expecting to encounter Autobots here on Earth but then again getting to the Portal would have been too easy without Autobots to get in his way.

He gave the robotic equivalent of a malevolent grin as he surveyed the old human city before him. Within this city was an item of such immense power it would only act to complement his Divine Device. He wanted the Spear of Destiny, otherwise known as the Lance of Unicron or the Holy Lance…just three of many names that had been given to it over the years.

It was required to access the network of ancient Cybertronian ruins located on one particular part of this planet's surface, left there for millions of years by an extinct line of Cybertronians…those that were like the Fallen. The Fallen had been the last of these and they had left behind a plethora of ancient artefacts and ruins. There had been a time when Unicron had ruled, having slain Primus with the Spear. How Unicron had been banished to the void was uncertain but Centurion had a feeling that it had to do with one particular group of Cybertronians, a group that had been unheard of up until recently. He wasn't sure of what they called themselves but he knew that they were as dead as the Fallen's race was.

Centurion's dwindling reserves of the powerful energy source had him only a little concerned. He needed the Divine Device and part of him wanted to simply leave here and head off to search for it. However, Megatron and Starscream were doing that task for him and thus with them out of the way he could get a hold of the Spear of Destiny without any interference. No doubt those two lead Decepticons would want it for their own ends, hence the reason he was considering simply killing them when they gave him the Divine Device. And why shouldn't he? He had tried to kill them in the past regardless of the friendship he had once had with Megatron and the slight acquaintance he had had with Starscream.

It occurred to him that once he had the Device he could simply put them under his influence as he had done so with others in the past. This was a distinct possibility but one that had its risks since putting someone "under the influence" had a considerable drain on him. He had been near exhausted after he had attempted and succeeded doing it to Jolt and had required some time to regather his energy. He had taken refuge at the power plant on the outskirts of the human city of Groningen, broadcasting a message out to space in order to call a few old friends of his. There would be some of his followers out there amongst the vast backdrop of space and he was looking forward to meeting two in particular, both being old friends of his. They were alive, he was certain of it. Sometimes he just "knew" things; sometimes he just had these premonitions. It was probably another side effect of the time he had spent in the void, the time he had spent being enlightened by the all powerful and all knowing Lord Unicron.

So Centurion stood on the hill, surveying the human city with some disgust. These humans, these _insects_…they seemed so complacent with their living. They were nothing…they were just mere flesh-bound creatures like so many others Centurion had killed. Some of those had been human and others that had been alien. This world was vastly different to Cybertron and it repulsed him to think that organics could have progressed to this level with their own planet and own civilization. They would no doubt bear the full brunt of Unicron's return and Centurion would only observe their complete annihilation with some satisfaction. He felt like simply marching into that city and killing a few of the humans, perhaps destroying a number of their flimsy structures as well.

Of course, Centurion knew better than to do that. These humans, regardless of their weak flesh physiology were in fact enough of a threat to prevent him from killing them all himself. Centurion's shield was gradually beginning to fail and when it did he would be vulnerable to human weapons, especially the more powerful ones the humans called "missiles" and "shells". What he did in order to get the Spear would have to be carefully planned and he would have to ensure that his shield, although failing on a dwindling power source would have to be at full power. He couldn't afford to get brought down by humans…the thought disgusted him. Killed by humans? Not a chance.

Centurion had pinpointed the location of the Spear, detecting that it was being kept within the bowels of an old and large palace. This palace was close to the city centre and was apparently a rather important building within this city. In order to learn more of what he was up against Centurion had managed to gain access to the human's global network known more precisely as the "World Wide Web". Here he had been able to access an absolute plethora of knowledge as well as plenty of other things. These humans were certainly disgusting judging from some of the other "things" he had discovered on this "Internet" but he had made sure to try and not get distracted, instead concentrating on what he had come here to find.

Hofburg Palace was the name of the place where the Spear was kept. It was kept within an underground vault within the _Schatzkammer_ treasury where other treasures were kept. Unsurprisingly these humans had found and stored the Spear away, completely oblivious to its true power or perhaps simply afraid of it. Centurion was curious as to what the humans knew of the Spear, finding that there had indeed been a number of humans that had sought the Spear for its apparent "mystical" powers. The legend went that those who had the Spear became unstoppable but when the wielder lost possession of it they would die shortly afterwards, usually at the hands of the enemy or in some unfortunate accident.

Centurion knew that such legends were simply nonsense. These humans were certainly a superstitious bunch. The sheer idea of organic life repulsed him but by now Centurion had a strange fascination with the history of the humans, accessing the appropriate websites on the World Wide Web and reading through much of the recorded history of the humans.

He was surprised at what he found but he managed to keep a straight face as he digested all of the information. Human history was full of wars, acts of genocide and general conflict. There were heroes, famous political figures, scientists who had made startling discoveries that had revolutionized human life. There were secrets, cover-ups, hidden organizations that acted in the shadows. In all these humans were a diverse people, far more than that of the Cybertronians. Centurion didn't feel anymore of a liking to them than he already did but he kept reading through all of the information he found, doing it all within minutes while an ordinary human being would have taken a lifetime to read all of the information.

The humans had found Megatron buried in the ice of the Arctic Circle. They had kept him in cryogenic suspension, using him as a source of reverse-engineering technology to advance themselves. In fact it was safe to say that all of the technology the humans had developed in the last eighty years had come from Megatron. Centurion discovered all of this on some weakly protected government database, one that had its fair share of firewalls and password boxes but Centurion had simply bypassed these defences within seconds. There had been the organization known as Sector Seven and there had been other discoveries that they had made. Unfortunately for this organization they had been disbanded in the human year of 2007, its personnel sent packing.

Centurion had discovered all that he needed to know. He felt good abut it, keeping the information of the city he faced fresh in his mind. The city was called Vienna and it was within the country known as Austria. Hofburg Palace was the centre of government for the country and thus it would be heavily protected. With some effort Centurion diverted most of his non-essential power to his protective shield, knowing that he would need it if he went on to go and get the Spear himself.

The humans seemed to have a knack for killing each other, always trying to find news ways of doing it. This was perhaps one reason why they were a potential threat to any Cybertronian, capable of using sheer force to bring even the toughest prey down. Centurion would need to tread carefully whenever there were humans in the equation although he was rather confident that he would be protected. No weapon could harm him when his shield was in working order. He was unstoppable. Not even the Autobots had any chance of stopping him.

_Autobots and humans working together. How typical of either race._ Centurion thought this absently as he looked towards the city spread out ahead of him. No doubt the humans and the Autobots would be after him but he was certain that he would have the Spear in his grasp before they arrived. With the Spear he would be invincible and in conjunction with the Divine Device he would be utterly _unbeatable_. With one item he would be unstoppable…with both he would be a God.

Without any further delay Centurion jumped, changing back into his Cybertronian jet form before he went roaring off into the sky above the city. Today, he thought, would be a good day. He was one step closer to bringing back Unicron, one step closer to becoming a God himself.


	30. Trouble at the Palace

**Trouble at the Palace  
**Vienna, Austria  
December 15th, 2010

There was a brief fumbling in a trouser pocket and the hand that had gone inside retrieved a small orange plastic container, the label on it covered with small detailed print and long words. Colonel Francis Weller didn't bother to read the directions and instead popped open the cap of this container, swallowing about three of the capsules inside. Hopefully they would help him with his ever fidgety mood as excitement dawned upon him: they were going to get the Spear of Destiny.

There was a Holy Lance kept within the _Schatzkammer_ treasury of the Hofburg Palace although no one had ever been sure that it was the real thing. However, Weller knew that it was the real thing since the device he had constructed the night before had pinpointed this location, getting the location right by about five hundred metres. All Weller had to do was go and get it, something that was bound to be tricky. The Hofburg Palace was the centre of government in Austria and would be under heavy guard. Start any trouble at the palace and chances are the whole Austrian military would get on your ass.

Regardless, it was imperative that he get hold of the Spear. It was in fact _vital_ that they get the Spear before anyone else did. The others he had in mind were the Decepticons, thinking that with the increase of their activity on this planet that there was no doubt that they were searching for it. They always seemed to be searching for something. First it had been the All-spark, then the energon harvester and now it was the Spear of Destiny. This time, however, Weller would make sure that the Decepticons never got hold of the Spear. He would get it first and he would make sure to keep it close at hand, denying any pesky Decepticon the chance to get hold of it.

Today was going to be an important day in the overall scheme of things, bringing him one step closer to fulfilling the goal of eradicating every Cybertronian that was on Earth. They didn't deserve to be here on the human home-world. Ever since their arrival there had been nothing but trouble and most of that trouble had resulted in the loss of human lives. Weller was determined to make sure that sort of thing never happened again, hence the reason he wanted the Spear. The Spear of Destiny would make his organization unstoppable, complementing the prototype technology they had with them.

There were coil rifles and rail guns, both types of weaponry quite effective against Cybertronian targets. The coil rifle was as portable as an ordinary rifle and could blow a fairly large hole in any target. The portable rail guns were like large rocket launchers and required a team of two to operate. Weller had a coil rifle with him, resting to the side of his seat as the van he was in trundled along.

They were headed for the Hofburg Palace, having just arrived in Austria after a speedy trip across the Atlantic. Weller sat in the passenger seat of the black coloured van while Captain Xander Farnell sat in the driver's seat, taking it easy as he traversed the narrow winding streets of Vienna. In the rear section of the van were six Sector Eight commandoes, all armed and highly trained. With them was the much needed EMP emitter device which was capable of neutralizing all electronics in a certain radius and thus would ensure that no alarms were sounded when they entered the Hofburg Palace.

The plan was fairly straightforward. Under the Hofburg Palace ran a series of old tunnels used for maintenance, allowing janitors and repairmen to make their way from each part of the palace without interfering with anyone up in the palace itself. Weller and his men would use these maintenance tunnels to get straight to the _Schatzkammer_ treasury.

There was one part of the plan that Weller found the most thrilling. They were from an organization that didn't officially exist, thus people who didn't exist could get away with doing anything they wanted. That meant if shooting did start up Weller and his team could kill whoever they wanted, whether it was necessary or not. No one would be able to trace them and no one would have any idea of who they were, keeping Sector Eight's secrecy intact. Weller was sure they wouldn't need to kill too many people unlike what had happened at the docks in Holland the other day, especially if their plan was carried out without a hitch. "Hitches", otherwise known as "snags" were a bad thing for any operation. This was something Weller knew only too well.

To get across the impression of a maintenance crew both he and Captain Farnell were dressed in maintenance worker uniforms. Farnell had managed to touch up on his Austrian (since these Austrians spoke a slightly different variation of German) and would have the papers to back up their cover story. They were a maintenance crew required in the treasury in order to fix some broken lock mechanisms and change some light-bulbs. It was a plausible cover story, one that the guards would have to buy especially after they were shown the appropriate (but fake) IDs and papers.

Every man in the team had suppressed weapons in order to avoid alerting many of the other guards if the shooting did start. Weller glanced up towards the windscreen, seeing that they were headed on the road that would take them directly to the palace. In order to get to the maintenance tunnels they would have to get through a security checkpoint and this was where the fake IDs and papers would be required. These fake papers were well done fakes and would easily convince any idiot guard that they were the real thing.

Weller took out his favoured Beretta Inox 96 pistol and carefully screwed a silencer onto the barrel. He slid back the slider, letting it click back and forwards into place. He holstered it, keeping it out of view from anyone who might be looking into the windows. As well as this Weller had holstered at the other side of his waist his Magnum .44 revolver, a weapon that had seen him through thick and thin.

The headaches that Weller had been suffering had since receded although there were still those other side effects, such as the metallic lines growing across his hands and the metal growing at the back of his throat. Usually he would have gone to see a doctor about these things by now but Weller hadn't found any reason to, having felt so damn good that going to a doctor would only be detrimental to his health. He felt better than he had ever felt before in his life and his mind was so full of knowledge that it felt as if it would explode.

It was safe to assume that he had become a vessel for the All-spark's powers and whatever knowledge had been left in it. It was unlike what had happened to Sam Witwicky the year before but quite similar in the same regards.

The front of the palace had that grand look about it, with a circular grassy common out the front where a large statue of a man on a horse was situated. The Austrian flag billowed lively at the very top of the front part of the palace while the whole front of the building consisted of pillars and arch shaped windows. Many cars were parked out front, mostly tourists and standard visitors. A group of camera wielding tourists wandered by, taking snapshots of the palace as they went along. It was a grand building indeed although the Hofburg Imperial Palace consisted of many other buildings, some closed to public while some were not. Unfortunately the treasury happened to be closed to public but Weller and his team weren't any ordinary members of the public. No, they were men on an important mission (as they believed) and wouldn't be thwarted by a bunch of security guards and security systems.

"Nice place," Farnell commented, pulling to a stop near the middle of the car park. For a moment he and Weller took a long look at the front of the palace, thinking that never in their job descriptions had there been any mention of visiting an old and magnificent place such as this.

Their reverie was broken by the sound of a car's horn which erupted from somewhere behind them. A quick glance in the rear view mirror alerted them to the fact that an expensive looking silver car was behind them, the driver honking the horn in annoyance at the van that had stopped dead centre in the front parking.

Farnell sighed and resumed driving, heading through the car park and around one of the adjoining buildings that went with the front of the palace. At the side was a road that branched off towards a security checkpoint and beyond that security checkpoint was a set of garages, tucked out of the way of any passing tourists. Undoubtedly this was the way to the maintenance tunnels of the palace, protected by armed guards in order to keep out any unsavoury types.

Weller was not an unsavoury type in his opinion so he directed Farnell towards the security checkpoint. A guard stood in a booth near the gate while another stood at the other end of the gate, both of them watching the van approach with some caution. Farnell brought the van to a stop at the metal gate, winding down his side's window as the guard from the booth approached.

There were a few signs on the metal gate, all of them in Austrian with English subtitles: KEEP OUT, AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY, and RESTRICTED AREA. It was quite standard stuff and would have little effect in dissuading potential intruders. Usually when someone saw a KEEP OUT sign they were more likely to break in rather than keep themselves out. It was human nature to break the rules, Weller knew this only too well.

The guard stopped by Farnell's open window. Farnell reached into his grey maintenance worker's uniform, removing an identification card and some authorization papers. The guard looked at them for a moment before saying something in German. He made his way back into the guard booth, picking up the phone inside and carefully dialling a number. Weller and Farnell watched as the guard spoke into the phone, occasionally glancing down at the papers and identification he had been handed by Farnell.

Weller could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest. Would these Austrians buy their cover story or would the shooting start already? The success of this mission rested on whether or not Weller and his team were able to get into the maintenance tunnels without arousing suspicion. If they weren't able to get in without shooting anyone then they may as well turn around and go home now.  
Of course Weller wasn't about to give up on the mission now. Chances are he would simply go in himself if the shooting began regardless if anyone wanted to follow him or not. Getting the Spear was vital to the success of Sector Eight's grand goal and Weller wasn't about to be stopped by some simple security guards.

After a minute or two the guard in the booth put the phone down and returned to Farnell's open window. He failed to notice the weapons that Weller was wearing (as the plan intended) and so casually handed Farnell back the papers and identification, saying something in German that Farnell replied to. The guard went back to the booth and pressed a button, the metal gate sliding open and allowing Weller and his team entry. The guards didn't know about the six other men in the back of the van, assuming that the van was merely storing maintenance equipment. How wrong they were.

Farnell put the van back into "drive" and slowly drove through the open gate, going down a slight incline towards the set of garages ahead. He brought the van to a halt by one of the doors and after a brief look at them he turned to Weller who was frowning.

"What now, sir?" He asked the Colonel.

Weller looked at the set of garage doors and then considered their options. He saw the panel on the wall by one of the doors, assuming that it was probably the way inside.

"Go out there and open that loading bay," Weller ordered. Farnell seemed a tad uncertain but pushed open his side's door anyway, stepping out onto the frosted over concrete.

It started snowing lightly as Farnell made his way towards the panel. Weller watched as Farnell pressed one of the buttons on the panel which in turn brought one of the loading bay doors up and pen. Beyond was a large dank room full of crates and containing a parked forklift. Weller could see that the maintenance tunnels went on from there so he gestured Farnell to return to the van.

Farnell sat himself back in the driver's seat and closed the door. Without hesitation he resumed driving the van, bringing it into the open loading bay and parking it in a space near some crates. Once the van had stopped Weller decided to get right onto the task at hand, pushing open his side's door and stepping into the cool interior of the loading bay.

He found a switch by the open door which brought the loading bay door closing down, blocking out any sunlight that might have been coming in outside. Several fluorescent lights were in the ceiling, casting a dry white glow over the room. There was no one else around save for the surveillance camera near the ceiling over in the corner.

"Farnell, bring out the emitter!" Weller called. The Captain emerged from the van and stepped over, carrying a large gym bag. He set it down on the floor nearby and opened it, revealing the cylindrical EMP emitter that had served them so well in previous operations. _The wonders of reverse engineering alien technology_, Weller thought.

With a quick fiddle the emitter hummed into life, the blue transparent ridges on its glowing brightly. The light on the surveillance camera in the corner flickered off, indicating that the emitter was doing its job. Just to make sure Weller tried his radio finding that the only thing he could get was garbled static.

Nobody else seemed to be in the loading bay, an occurrence that Weller could only judge as convenient. The maintenance tunnels began just up ahead with pipes and conduits lining the ceilings. A few of the white fluorescent lights flickered while the scent of ages old dust hung in the air. Some sections of the walls were older than others, indicating that the renovations down here had been sporadic at best. The maintenance tunnels were here to allow maintenance staff quick and easy access to the different parts of the Hofburg Imperial Palace hence it was understandable that the tunnels themselves wouldn't receive much maintenance.

Weller stepped to the side of the van, reaching inside and retrieving the prototype coil rifle he had been keeping under the passenger's seat. He used its strap to sling it over one shoulder before he stepped to the back of the van and knocked a few times on the doors. Within seconds the door had opened and the six Sector Eight commandoes inside flowed out, gathering around the van with their submachine guns held at the ready.

For an operation such as this each of the commandoes had been issued UMP .45 submachine guns, each with a suppressor attached in order to make the weapons silent killers. The .45 ACP rounds of the UMP were capable of penetrating most body armour while the weapons themselves were lightweight and had little recoil. They were perfect for this sort of close-up work where subtlety was the key. Unlike at the docks in Holland a couple of days before where it had been possible to simply shoot their way to what they wanted, here under the palace it was necessary to take a more low-key approach. The EMP emitter would prevent anything electronic from working and thus prevent any alarms from being sounded or any radios from being used. However, gunfire was one thing the EMP emitter could not remove thus the suppressors on their weapons were rather necessary.

Weller figured that there would be plenty of confused security guards wondering why their radios had ceased working or why the surveillance cameras were only recording white noise. It would take them a while to put two and two together and actually realize that it might have had something to do with the black van parked in the loading bay. Until then Weller and his team had enough time to make their way to the treasury, get in and snatch the Spear before coming back and making their escape.

They were in hostile territory now, they all knew that. Weller wasn't worried at all though, being quite confident in the abilities of his team and of himself. He looked around the dank loading bay for a moment, taking in his surroundings as he decided on their plan of approach. He reached into a pocket on his fake maintenance worker's uniform and retrieved a folded map of the maintenance which he had been keeping inside. He unfolded it and held it in front of him, pinpointing their current location on the map. He traced one finger along the schematics of the maintenance tunnels as he found the most sensible route to the entrance to the treasury's vault. No doubt that it would be guarded but Weller had estimated that it would be at least five minutes getting there and five minutes finding a way into the vault. They probably had twenty minutes before someone came by the loading bay and discovered the EMP emitter.

Lowering the map he folded it and put it back into his pocket. He had seen it once and remembered every little detail that was on the map, right down to the German words that had been used to label certain areas. He assumed that another side-effect of the incident with the All-spark shard had been to gain a precise photographic memory and this was something that he figured was fairly beneficial.

He looked at the six armed and armoured commandoes and then Captain Farnell. The commandoes were wearing helmets with visors that completely shielded their faces so he had no idea as to what they would be thinking. Farnell, on the other hand, was looking quite nervous as he often did during this sort of operation.

"Let's get moving," Weller ordered bluntly before he started down the maintenance tunnel. The commandoes and Captain Farnell followed, Weller keeping himself in front since he was more or less leading the way.

He had briefed them all on what to do once they were inside the maintenance tunnels. They were to eliminate potential threats, primarily security guards. Anybody else, such as janitors and the like only needed to be subdued. Weller didn't feel like killing many people today, probably because he hadn't been in the killing mood. Some days he was, others he simply wasn't.

The air within the grey and dreary maintenance tunnels was dank and musty, the ventilation doing little to get rid of that old air smell. These tunnels were the sort of place someone would hardly bother visiting unless it was part of their job. It was obvious that little effort had been put into keeping the tunnels clean and inviting since dust was all over the walls and floors as well as numerous stains here and there. Cobwebs hung at the ceilings in places while some of the fluorescent lights had ceased functioning altogether. The floors were cold, hard and mostly concrete. Footsteps clacked loudly upon the concrete as one walked along. Sections of the tunnels still had some of their features from hundreds of years previously, such as old European brickwork and archways.

The Hofburg Imperial Palace was about four hundred years old and some of these tunnels were just as old. Many people had traversed these winding tunnels for one reason or another, whether they be here for work or using them to escape…or break in, as Weller and his entourage were doing now. Not many people had bothered to break into Hofburg Imperial Palace in recent years, perhaps indicating why security out the front had been fairly lax.

The tunnels turned and branched off every now and then. Voices filtered down the tunnels in an echoing fashion yet the owners of the voices could still be a fair way ahead. Along the way to the treasury vault Weller encountered and subdued three maintenance workers, knocking them out with his honed close combat skills. It was necessary for people in his line of work to have a grasp of some sort of close combat art and Weller knew more than one. He liked to think of himself as a jack of all trades, or an all rounder. Good at shooting and good at punching. Hell, give him a knife and he could take out a whole platoon of highly trained soldiers with it.

In fact, he had once taken down a whole Iraqi platoon with a combat knife back in the first Gulf War in 1991. That was just one of many highlights of his long military career, just one of the many things that had gotten him as far as he was now. To reach the rank of Colonel one had to prove himself in a variety of often life-threatening situations.

A few times in the past Weller had been offered promotions but he had refused each one. Any higher than Colonel and he would be a paper-pusher, stuck behind a desk and planning operations rather than doing them himself. He disliked that whole idea, preferring to be in on the action when it occurred. Becoming a General did not appeal to him in any way whatsoever.

Weller kept at the head of the group, walking with that aura of authority he carried with him. He knew he was in a position to do so since no one, and that was_ no one_ could mess with him. He was a proud self-titled "bad ass", one who could do what he pleased without consequence. Sector Eight didn't officially exist and thus people who didn't exist could do what they wanted. This was one reason why they could go around the maintenance tunnels under Hofburg Imperial Palace wielding guns and bludgeoning any janitors they came across.

Soon enough the group had arrived on the stretch of tunnel that leads to the underground entrance of the treasury. By now the many jewels and treasures would be on display but there was a mechanism to lower the display cases into the underground vault and this was one mechanism Weller intended to activate.

Along the tunnel were two sets of metal gates and a guard booth. About five guards were here, one in the booth, two at the first gate and another two at the second gate. As soon as Weller and his team had rounded the corner the shooting started. The firefight was quick and mostly one sided, the first three guards falling under a hail of bullets. Weller brought out his silenced Beretta Inox 96 pistol and took down both guards behind the first gate, placing his shots so the rounds passed through the narrow gaps between the bars and hit the guards behind.

The shooting was over within seconds. Five dead guards had slumped in varying positions near the gates, blood seeping from their wounds and onto the floor underneath. All five still had surprised but relaxed gazes on their faces, completely oblivious to just what had happened at their moment of death.

Weller approached the first gate and found that the electronic lock was not working thanks to the EMP emitter back in the loading bay. The electro-magnetic pulse could travel quite a long distance and would have been amplified down these dank and grey tunnels, enhancing its effects at places like this. Weller slid the gate open with ease, stepping on through to the nest one which he slid open as well.

Ahead was the locked metal door that lead into the vault underneath the treasury building. Above would be the treasury building itself where the many treasures of the Austrian government were on display. As much as Weller wanted diamonds and emeralds to enhance his pay he knew that getting distracted with such minor things would only jeopardize their original mission. They were here to get the Spear of Destiny and they would make sure they got it successfully.

Unfortunately this metal door, despite having two computerized locks had a pair of mechanical ones to complement them. Mechanical locks were unaffected by the EMP emitter so Weller, taking a moment to think of an approach, un-slung his coil rifle from around his shoulder and took aim at one of the thick bulky locks that was to the left of the door.

It took a single shot to cleave the lock in half, the supersonic round punching a large hole within the metal of the door in the process. Weller shifted his aim to the other mechanical lock and blasted it away with the coil rifle, managing a satisfied grin as the door slid open only slightly. With some effort Weller managed to slide the door the rest of the way across, revealing the vault interior beyond.

The vault lay directly beneath the display room of the treasury and was currently occupied by two bored looking security guards. They looked up as Weller stepped inside and seemed surprised at his arrival, going for their side-arms. Weller was much faster than the guards, raising his coil rifle and firing at the guard to his left. The round punched a large bloody hole straight through the chest of this particular guard and he fell to the floor, bleeding everywhere. The other guard managed to bring out his sidearm but Weller had swivelled around and fired before the guard had a chance to do the same. Part of the security guard's head was blown away in an explosion of blood and brain and the guard fell, slumping against one of the metal pillars nearby.

Each pillar was in fact connected to one of the display cases in the treasury room above. Weller took a quick look around and found the panel he had been searching for, stepping over to it and pulling a lever. Immediately red lights began flashing as each of the nine pillars began to descend, on top of each being a display case that contained one of the nine important treasures being kept within the treasury.

Captain Farnell and three of the commandoes entered while the other three kept watch on the tunnel outside. Farnell stood alongside the Colonel, watching each pillar descend.

Weller's eyes searched each display case once the pillars had lowered themselves entirely, providing a level view with the treasures within the display cases. There was the golden Imperial Crown of Austria in one case; the even more majestic and golden Imperial Crown of the Holy Roman Empire was in another; the golden necklace the Insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece was in the nearest display case. Weller's gaze went to another of the cases, this one containing the majestic gold and red Coronation mantle of Austria. Within another case was the large blue-green 2860-carat Colombian Emerald, one of the largest gems in the world. There was the glistening and see-through (but faintly blue) 492-carat Aquamarine in another case whilst in the case near it was the hanging bag of pure opal. In the furthest case was an old golden-bronze war medal.

Above the hatches had closed, sealing off the surprised looking faces of the people who had been up in the treasury room at the time and had gazed into the depths of the vault after the abrupt descending of the treasures of Austria. Soon enough there would be people coming down here to find out what was going on but Weller was certain he and his team would be gone before those people arrived.

Weller approached the case his gaze had rested upon, ignoring all of the other priceless treasures. Within this glass case, resting upon a bed of deep red felt was the golden and bronze head of the Holy Lance, otherwise known as the Spear of Destiny. No one had been sure that it had been the real Spear of Destiny until now. Weller knew it was the real one and as if to make sure a headache shot through his skull and another ripple of blue wavered across his vision, allowing him to glimpse the sheer level of invisible but powerful energy emanating from the spearhead.

Without hesitation Weller brought the butt of his prototype coil rifle forcefully into the glass of the case, smashing it. A high-pitched alarm would have sounded if it had not been for the EMP emitter and the effect it had had on the whole palace's electronics. Weller reached through the smashed section of glass and grasped the spearhead with his left hand, feeling that it was quite weighty. He held it up to the light of the vault, peering at its smooth golden surfaces as he traced a finger across one side. This was it, he could feel it. There was no doubt that this was the Spear of Destiny, even if it was just a mere spearhead. A quick glance revealed that there was a trio of Cybertronian symbols etched into the underside of the Spear, alerting him to the fact that this Spear had some sort of activation to it.

Weller stared in awe at the spearhead for a moment before he slipped it into one pocket at his trousers and turned around, feeling quite confident that they would be able to quell any obstacle in the path to their ultimate goal. He glanced at Farnell who seemed to be looking doubtful but hadn't said anything.

"We have it, Captain!" Weller exclaimed, his voice carrying with it some subdued excitement, "We have the Spear of Destiny! With it, we'll become unbeatable!"

His words echoed throughout the vault and down the tunnel, colliding with incredulous ears. However, his excitement would be short-lived once he returned to the United States. The Lance of Unicron as the Cybertronians knew it could be operated by no human in its current state. Right now Weller was oblivious to this fact, his mind concentrated on the very fact that he _had_ the Spear. If the legends were true then he already was unstoppable, he just had to make sure that he did not lose the spear. Those that lost possession of the Spear had a habit of dying.


	31. NEST meets Sector Eight

**NEST meets Sector Eight  
**Vienna, Austria  
December 15th, 2010

The streets of Vienna were often narrow and winding, populated by numerous cars and buses. Pedestrians would stop and turn to watch as the three somewhat exotic vehicles rolled on by, forming a sort of convoy that went rumbling further to the city centre. The convoy of three was headed by a blue Peterbuilt truck with flame decals, the type one did not see very often in Austria. In fact, some would say that it was a more American vehicle and would have expected to have found it in that country.

Above the grey clouds had unleashed a light drizzle of snow but a light drizzle was enough to frost some of the roads over. The vehicles took extra care as they weaved their way along the frosted and winding roads, passing many classical looking buildings as well as many modern ones. The city of Vienna featured a mix of differing types of architecture, ranging from the old to the new. It was certainly a beautiful city and beat Groningen by a long way.

The convoy of three consisted of the leading truck, followed by a silver Chevrolet Stingray and a yellow search and rescue Hummer H2. The three wildly differing vehicles sped along the Vienna roadways, heading further and further into the city. Above it was possible to watch as an F-35 fighter jet flew high over the city, keeping an eye on the streets from high above.

The windows of the three ground-based vehicles were tinted, effectively hiding the occupants from view. There were two occupants within each vehicle and they were all armed and uniformed soldiers of the organization known as NEST. Heading in from the other side of the city were several NEST vehicles, the occupants being part of the team responsible for cordoning off the area of the city where the operation was to take place.

The blue truck was in fact Optimus Prime in vehicle mode who was followed by Sideswipe and Ratchet who were both in their respective vehicle forms. The jet flying high above the city was Breakaway who formed a reliable "eye in the sky" for any mission. Currently he was trying his best to keep tabs on Centurion who was apparently flying somewhere over the city, headed for the city centre where the Hofburg Imperial Palace was located.

There would only be minutes before Centurion reached wherever he was going so the Autobots had been going as fast as they could whilst obeying the road laws of Vienna. The last thing they needed was a police pursuit since that would just slow them down even more.

Seated in the driver's seat of Optimus' vehicle mode was Major William Lennox. He was tired and dirtied from the events of the past day and night and was yet to get any sleep after these events. He yawned loudly, barely able to keep his eyes open but knowing full well that he had to. Falling asleep in the middle of a firefight was something he wasn't willing to do. He needed to be awake to see this thing through, even if this whole Centurion business had gone too far already. Centurion had escaped from them twice and chances are he would do it again, probably heading off to some other European city to wreak havoc there as he had in Groningen back in Holland. Now he was in Vienna and Lennox knew there would have to be a reason _why_ Centurion had come to Vienna.

There had been discussions amongst the Autobots about why Centurion was on Earth and about how he had mentioned the name "Unicron", as well as what a dazed Jolt had been mumbling on his return to the Dutch military compound yesterday. Some of the Autobots seemed to have only a loose idea as to who this "Unicron" character was while some of the other Autobots, especially the younger ones, had had no idea as to who "Unicron" could be. Whoever it was this Unicron guy was part of Centurion's scheme, whatever that scheme was. It struck Lennox as odd as to how much they didn't know about what their enemies were planning, something that frustrated him because the cost so far had been dear enough.

A few hundred Dutch military personnel had already been killed and for what? For a few loose indications as to what Centurion was planning? Was such a cost worth the minimal amounts of information? Lennox didn't think it was, especially after Ironhide's death. If they lost anymore Autobots without finding out any useful information then Lennox was afraid that he might be close to going out of his mind with anger and frustration.

Centurion had come out of nowhere, wreaking havoc wherever he went and proving to be impervious to all weaponry. That sort of thing was damned annoying since never had NEST and the Autobots been up against a foe who was unharmed by conventional weaponry. What could they do against an enemy like that? The only idea that came to mind was trying to slow him down in order to determine why he was here on Earth and why he had come to Vienna.

The pedestrians on the winding Viennese streets were oblivious to the war that was going on, a war that could shape the fate of humanity as a whole. Whether their complete obliviousness was a good or a bad thing Lennox didn't know but he did know that panic would undoubtedly be stirred up if they did know the truth. Giant alien robots on the rampage on Earth? That was the sort of thing that made normal people go crazy with fear, especially if they didn't know the full truth. One day they would but that day was far away.

General Morshower had made it blatantly clear that they were to try and slow Centurion down or even try and take him out here in Vienna. What Morshower was doing was trying to buy them all some more time, probably struggling to come up with a means of slowing down this unstoppable foe. How could they if Centurion remained unharmed by all conventional weapons? Even the Autobots and their advanced technology didn't do anything against Centurion except annoy him and give him an excuse to try and kill them. They had already lost one Autobot…they didn't need to lose another. This was something that both Lennox and Optimus was determined to ensure didn't happen again.

Seated in the passenger seat next to Lennox was Master Sergeant Epps. He looked just as tired as Lennox but came across as somewhat optimistic whereas Lennox was getting fed up with this whole operation. Epps was always the type who made jokes at the most inopportune times but thankfully he hadn't done that yet. He was watching the Viennese scenery roll by through his side's window, keeping silent as the truck thundered along.

Compared to Epps, Lennox had much more weighing on his mind at the moment. Not only was there the death of Ironhide to contend with and the fact that they were up against a practically unstoppable foe but there was also that worry that he felt concerning the recent development Morshower had alerted him to over the phone. Megatron and Starscream had gone to Tranquility in Nevada, Sam Witwicky's hometown. Chances are Sam wouldn't even be there but it did give the indication that both Decepticons were out for revenge. And why wouldn't they be? Sam Witwicky had effectively foiled their nefarious schemes to destroy humanity on two separate occasions. No doubt that Megatron and Starscream were damned annoyed about this. The fact that all the Decepticons were showing up now on Earth further worried Lennox, indicating that there was some sort of grand scheme that had only just been put into motion.

What the hell were the Decepticons planning anyway? What did Centurion have to do with all of it? There was something they were missing, something obvious. Lennox guessed that it had something to do with this "Unicron" character, whoever he was. No doubt Optimus would know something but surprisingly enough Optimus wasn't telling. Trying to work out what an alien robot was thinking was hard, much harder than doing the same sort of thing to a human. However, if Lennox wasn't mistaken then there _was_ something weighing down on Optimus' mind, something that seemed to have sparked some rather painful memories within the Autobot leader.

Behind them, seated within Sideswipe's vehicle mode were Captain Graham and Lieutenant Douglas. Both men seemed to be far more talkative than Lennox and Epps and had tried to spark up conversations over the radio only for Lennox to give them a subdued reply which more or less told them that he wasn't in the mood for talk. Lennox surely was not in any mood to talk, his mind weighed with worry, anger and frustration. Here they were speeding in pursuit of some near unstoppable foe when they could be chasing down Megatron and Starscream over in Tranquility, back in the United States. At least Megatron and Starscream could be harmed, unlike Centurion who seemed to simply shrug off whatever anyone threw his way.

Centurion had selected Vienna of all places and there would have to be a reason as to why this was the case. He was not just here to wreak havoc, he could have done that in any city in Europe. In order to get to Vienna he had flown over Holland and Germany, the interference that seemed to emanate off of him scrambling any radar that detected him. Air forces had been scrambled into action in order to investigate the airborne anomaly but none had been successful in tracking him down. And now Centurion was somewhere near the city centre of Vienna, presumably airborne as he decided on his next move.

Lennox had since dumped the idea of carrying a standard-issue M4 rifle with him. Instead he had a grenade launcher resting across his lap, loaded with the high temperature 105mm rounds that seemed to be effective at burning through the armour of any Decepticon. He doubted it would have much effect on Centurion though but still it was better than a puny rifle that fired rounds that seemed to merely glance off of the Decepticon's shield.

Lennox's radio crackled into life as did everyone else's. Breakaway's voice filtered through it, his tone one of alertness. Something had caught his attention no doubt, hinting towards the fact that they were near their objective. Centurion was in Vienna somewhere and it seemed he was close to wreaking havoc, something that Decepticons like him were good at.

"_Strike Team Alpha, this is Breakaway,"_ Breakaway announced somewhat tersely, _"I have visual confirmation on Centurion. I repeat, I have visual confirmation on Centurion."_

This announcement abruptly brought Lennox out of his thoughts. The Major opened the channel and spoke into it slowly and carefully, the signal hissing with static from the interference that seemed to emanate from Centurion.

"This is Lennox. Whereabouts is Centurion?" Lennox awaited the answer while Epps looked out the windscreen towards the city centre up ahead, his gaze falling upon something in particular.

"_He's heading for some big palace…I think you humans call it the 'Hofburg Imperial Palace', at least that's according to what I found on the Internet. He's in his jet mode right now but I don't think he will be for long. Should I engage?"_

Lennox remembered what had happened the night before when Breakaway had taken on Centurion by himself and had almost gotten killed. He was not about to let that happen again, regardless of whatever personal vendetta Breakaway had against the Decepticon.

"No, don't engage," Lennox ordered, "we're already closing in on the palace now."

"I see the bastard," Epps said, pointing up high. As he did Optimus picked up the speed, the accelerator practically flooring itself. The sudden acceleration pushed both Lennox and Epps back into their seats as Optimus, followed by Sideswipe and Ratchet, sped past the grassy circular common out the front of the palace and towards the front entrance.

Above Centurion was swooping in low, his Cybertronian jet form creating a large and imposing target. Lennox and Epps watched as he came in low and disappeared over the front palace building just as he unfolded himself from his jet mode, landing with a loud _thump_ on the grass behind the front building. By now the civilians nearby had either started watching or fleeing as the Decepticon started across the grounds and towards the Swiss courtyard area.

Optimus, Sideswipe and Ratchet pulled up outside the front of the palace. Lennox opened his side's door and stepped out, followed by Epps while both Graham and Douglas emerged from Sideswipe's vehicular interior. At around about the same time about four unmarked grey-blue NEST SUVs rolled up outside the palace, creating further panic amongst the civilians here.

Lennox kept his grenade launcher handy as he looked at the front of the majestic palace, taking note of the many arched windows and pillars that lined its front. Centurion was in the grounds behind, causing panic as he forcefully pushed his way through any obstacles in his way, including any people who might be in his path. Lennox realized the body-count was already rising and so decided that now would be a good time to take action.

"Optimus, Sideswipe, Ratchet…" Lennox began, about to elaborate on what he wanted the three to do before he was interrupted. Optimus' voice rang out from his Peterbuilt truck mode, breaking the Major's concentration.

"Major, I have detected a strange EMP spike from one of the nearby structures," Optimus announced. Lennox frowned, thinking that this sort of announcement was not appropriate for their current situation. There was a crazy Decepticon on the loose and Optimus was worried about an EMP spike?

Still, Lennox was curious. Usually their past encounters with EMP were from times when the Decepticons had used such electro-magnetic pulses to disable their radios, rendering contact with the outside world near impossible. This had been what Starscream had done prior to the battle in Egypt last year. Perhaps there was a Decepticon doing the same sort of thing nearby? Lennox would not be surprised if this was the case.

"EMP spike? Where from?" Epps was the one to ask, exchanging bemused glances with Lennox. The Major shrugged, not too sure on what to think of the matter.

"From a structure nearby, down the service road…I believe it is in what you would call a 'loading bay'," Optimus continued, "it appears to be emitting an electro-magnetic wave throughout the whole palace area. I am not sure of its exact nature though, whether it is Decepticon or not."

Lennox checked his radio just to make sure, finding with some surprise that it wasn't able to broadcast or receive. Epps checked his own radio and found that his was in a similar state.

Captain Graham and Lieutenant Douglas walked over, the Captain wearing a concerned look on his face. He frowned, able to hear the distant surprised shouts of civilians as Centurion tore his way through the palace grounds.

"My radio's not working!" Graham exclaimed, "It's as if it just…went bung!" He sounded incredulous, unable to quite believe that it had happened.

Lennox considered their options for a moment, knowing full well that Centurion was their highest priority. However, the EMP source deserved some investigation. For a moment he was at a loss on what to do, unable to quite put as much faith in the Autobots as he had before. They were up against a foe that was practically unstoppable and in his pinion this whole mission seemed far too risky to be worth it.

"Optimus, Sideswipe, Ratchet…you three go and see what you can do about Centurion," Lennox said, turning to Optimus who was still parked in vehicle mode nearby, "if you have to use your robot modes, which you probably will just make sure you try and keep a low profile. Get Centurion talking…he seems the type who loves the sound of his own voice. Meanwhile, Epps, Graham, Douglas and myself will go and check out this EMP…thingy. Whatever the hell it is."

"Understood, Major," Optimus replied. His truck mode's engine started and he sped down the parking lot, heading around the side of the front building. Both Sideswipe and Ratchet followed whilst keeping in their vehicle forms.

By now civilians were racing out of the palace in droves while some security guards stood nearby, trying their radios but finding that they were not working which was a strange enough occurrence in itself. An explosion erupted from somewhere behind the palace causing Lennox, Epps, Graham and Douglas to shift their gazes in that direction. Smoke billowed from somewhere within the central grounds of the palace, hinting that Centurion had begun wreaking general havoc.

The four NEST SUVs followed the Autobots as they went on to engage Centurion, a move that Lennox had a feeling would ultimately turn out to be futile. Lennox consulted the map of the palace he had brought with him, finding the loading bay that Optimus had mentioned before folding the map back up and slipping it back into a pocket on his uniform.

Lennox, Epps, Graham and Douglas started on their way through the front car-park, passing startled civilians who eyed them carefully. Four gun toting Special Forces men outside the front of Hofburg Palace didn't go unnoticed and unsurprisingly one of the Austrian security guards approached them, looking confused as to just what was going on. The group stopped as the security guard stepped into their path, unsure of what to think of these four gun toting soldiers.

"Are you the military?" He asked in thickly accented English. Lennox nodded in response.

"What the hell is going on?" The security guard's voice was partially drowned out by another explosion that erupted from somewhere behind the palace and he uneasily glanced in its general direction.

Lennox spoke with a straight face, having reached that point in his mood where humour was no longer applicable. Besides, they had more important things to worry about than some security guard's frightened curiosity.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Lennox replied bluntly, "so move out of the way and go home. You're in way over your head."  
Strangely enough the security guard seemed to agree, simply nodding quickly before turning around and sprinting towards the street. With the way clear of interlopers Lennox and his group could continue onwards.

* * *

The Swiss courtyard was an ornately decorated courtyard of white and grey cobblestone, a fountain with a large statue of an important looking man in noble's clothes in the centre and beds of well maintained gardens. The greenery within the garden beds had since been frosted over in the Austrian winter, making what was once bright and lush green a dull grey colour.

By now the few people that had been out in the cold winter air had fled as the towering Decepticon known as Centurion barged his way into the courtyard, trampling upon the garden beds and blasting away the statue in the centre with a well placed shot from his right arm cannon. He cheerfully kicked a fleeing human with one foot, sending this particular elderly male flying into the wall of the nearby palace building.

Centurion could sense the presence of the Lance of Unicron, he knew that it was near. In fact he had reason to believe that it was within the old human building up ahead, the front steps frosted over with ice while a set of garden beds were situated out front. He was about to start on his way straight for the _Schatzkammer _treasury building when he felt a sudden painful drain, one that sent aches flowing across his body. He stumbled, clutching at his chest as his shield flickered unsteadily before switching off entirely.

That had done it. He was out of the power required to keep his persona shield working. The Divine Device he had lost possession of thanks to Deadeye and he had been running his shield on reserve power ever since. He had known that eventually it would run out, he had just been hoping that it would not have happened as soon as it did. He recovered from the brief aching pains that had flowed through his body, the pains that had indicated that he had perhaps strained himself a little too hard. He stood upright, thinking that he could do without his shield for now.

However, it occurred to him that he was no longer the powerful Decepticon he knew he was without his shield. The thought that he was no longer Centurion without his shield occurred to him but he had quickly quelled that thought, knowing that such downbeat thoughts weren't good for his own morale. His goal, the Lance of Unicron, was within reach. All he had to do was break into the human building ahead and get it.

Centurion was just another Decepticon without his shield, a thought that disgusted him. Just another Decepticon? He would never be like the others and he had spent most of his life trying to make sure that he was set apart from the rest. Without his shield though…maybe he _was_ just another Decepticon.

That was when he heard it, the sounds of the three differing vehicles speeding their way into the courtyard from behind. He sensed immediately that all three were Autobots, two he recognized as Optimus and Sideswipe while the other he had not encountered before. The three Autobots came to a halt about twenty metres behind him and Centurion turned around, feeling a wave of confidence as he saw that he could get rid of three of his enemies here and now. He might have been without his shield but he still had his combat skills, skills that he had been able to hone over his long life.

The three Autobots emerged from their vehicle modes, standing tall and proud in their full robot forms. The one Centurion didn't recognize was in fact the Autobot medic Ratchet. Optimus stood at the front of the group, eyeing Centurion carefully. Optimus' blade extended from his right wrist and glinted in the pale winter sunlight as the Autobot leader prepared for the inevitable battle.

"You can't just go around a human city and wreak havoc, Centurion," Optimus said, almost pityingly, "you'll stir up trouble. Like with us."

Centurion was unfazed by Optimus' "tough guy" demeanour, simply chuckling once the Autobot leader had finished his last sentence. It was credible that the three Autobots had noticed Centurion's lack of a shield but this did not worry the Decepticon in the slightest. He would still be a match for any of them, although three against one would prove to be somewhat difficult odds.

"These humans are nothing, Prime!" Centurion exclaimed, the madness evident in his voice, "_you_ and your Autobots are nothing! I work for a _God_, Prime…you cannot defeat those who work with a God as powerful as Unicron. You may as well give up now."

"Unicron?" The name seemed to strike a chord within Optimus. He recognized the name, he just wasn't sure where he had heard it…If he was correct then the Fallen had had something to do with Unicron. Of course, he couldn't even be sure about this.

"I've heard of him," Ratchet commented from behind, "he's some sort of ancient Cybertronian…the kind who enjoys destroying whole planets for his own personal enjoyment."

"We haven't got time for this," Sideswipe added bluntly, his swords extending from his arms. They had since regenerated themselves from his last encounter with Centurion and now Sideswipe was quite keen on delivering some payback.

"He doesn't destroy planets, he _devours_ them!" Centurion sounded excited at the thought, speaking as though he was in awe of this God-like figure. Chances are he probably was, obviously demented enough to take this "Unicron" as a God.

These words worried Optimus and he gazed towards Centurion for a moment or two, thinking carefully about what had been said. Unicron…he had the information somewhere, he just couldn't dig it up now. Centurion seemed to notice Optimus' sudden uncertainty and so stepped forward, the cannon on his right forearm charging up with energy.

"The Lance of Unicron is nearby, Prime," Centurion said mockingly, "perhaps you might consider joining me in my cause? Working for a God? Becoming more powerful than you could possibly imagine?"

Within seconds Optimus had brought his sword up, stepping forwards and holding it close to Centurion's neck. The anger was evident on his metallic features as well as the fact that in no circumstances would he consider changing to Centurion's side. Optimus hissed the next few sentences through sheer rage and Centurion, for the first time in a while, suddenly felt a pang of worry for his own safety. If he had still had his shield maybe he wouldn't be feeling it but now with the shield gone…well, he suddenly felt very nervous indeed, especially with that blade so close to his neck.

"I would rather kill you than ever consider joining you, Centurion," Optimus hissed, "you killed my only son…I've waited a long time for my revenge and I feel that I am close to getting it."

"Optimus, are you sure this is the way?" Ratchet's wise and calm tones seemed to find their way through Optimus' cloud of anger, striking doubt within the Prime. "You would be no better than the enemies we fight."

"Yes, Prime," Centurion said, the equivalent of a grin forming on his metallic features, "would you rather become like me or stay the benevolent guardian of humanity you are now?"

There was a moment's silence. A fire raged nearby where Centurion had blasted some humans away, the flames eating away at a garden bed, devouring the flowers that had once been growing there. The anger seemed to fade on Optimus' features and for a moment Centurion thought he would only step back, thus allowing Centurion a chance to blast the Prime away…but unfortunately Optimus swung with his blade and sent its jagged razor sharp edge slicing across Centurion's stomach area. Molten metal oozed out as well as blue-white energon fluid and Centurion howled with pain, taking a step back as he raised his right arm cannon on instinct.

Optimus seemed surprised that he had harmed Centurion but quickly composed himself, lunging forwards in order to press on the advantage that he had gained. However, Centurion had recovered and managed to fire a charged blast of energy from his right forearm cannon, a blast that hit the Prime square in the chest. Optimus was thrown backwards, colliding with Sideswipe. Both Autobots toppled over one another, Optimus now with a smoking hole blown in his chest area.  
The pain Centurion was in was excruciating but he managed to shut it out. He could feel his strength gradually leaving him as vital energon fluid flowed out of the deep laceration across his stomach. If he had had guts they would have spilled out by now but fortunately he didn't have any. Centurion briefly regarded the three Autobots, watching as Optimus slowly began to rise back onto his feet along with Sideswipe. Ratchet had taken out his grenade launcher and had it aimed directly at Centurion.

Centurion knew he had more or less outstayed his welcome. The Lance of Unicron would have to wait. Besides, the Divine Device he needed to power his shield was far more important to him now than it had been before. Centurion regarded the three Autobots with a smile that betrayed the weakness he was feeling right now, his strength gradually leaving him.

"I'll be back, Prime," Centurion spat, his voice laced with seething hatred. Within seconds he had jumped and changed into his Cybertronian jet form, roaring over the heads of the three stunned Autobots as they watched Centurion depart.

Optimus got up slowly, feeling some anger and frustration as he watched Centurion get away once again. He looked down at himself and saw the scorched hole blown into the front of his chest that had exposed some of his inner workings, the pain there being quite intense. Optimus thought he could handle it but ended up stumbling anyway, only to be caught by Ratchet.

"Careful there, Optimus," Ratchet said, taking a look at the Prime's wound, "looks like you need some fixing up."

Optimus simply nodded, his mind set on why Centurion had come here. It had been something about "Unicron" and the Lance of Unicron but the memories attributed to these things were somewhat vague. Optimus has failed in avenging his son once again and he could only feel anger at this. The next time Optimus was certain he would kill Centurion. He had almost succeeded now, so there was no reason why he could not succeed the next time.

* * *

One of the loading bay doors was opened. Major Lennox, followed by Master Sergeant Epps, Captain Graham and Lieutenant Douglas took note of the suspicious black van parked with the loading bay. They also took note of the six armed commandoes that were beginning to pile into the back of the van while a greying but stern looking man in a maintenance worker's uniform went for the driver's seat.

Lennox and his group had gotten past the guards at the security gate without much trouble since the guards themselves had been preoccupied with the chaos over at the palace grounds. According to them a black van had entered, its occupants having the correct identification and papers to enter the back areas of the palace. The loading bay up ahead lead straight into the network of maintenance tunnels that ran underneath the palace, allowing anyone with access to them to go from place to place within the palace area without anyone really knowing about it.

Lennox, Epps, Graham and Douglas saw the armed men and immediately brought up their own rifles. Lennox took note of the cylindrical device resting on the floor near the van, watching as a young looking guy in a maintenance worker's uniform started towards it. None of these suspicious types had noticed the four NEST soldiers headed towards them but Lennox was quite willing to make his presence obvious. Whatever these guys were doing it couldn't be legal.

"Hey, you!" Lennox shouted, slinging his grenade launcher around one shoulder and bringing out his HK Mk. 23 sidearm loaded with .45ACP rounds. The man approaching the cylindrical device looked up, surprise evident on his features.

The commando looking types turned their attention towards the four NEST soldiers, bringing up their weapons as the four NEST soldiers arrived at the open loading bay door. Lennox had a feeling on what was coming next but was still surprised when it happened.

The stern looking middle-aged man with the greying close-cropped hair who was dressed in the maintenance worker's uniform turned around. He was holding a large and bulky looking weapon, one that had glowing lines along its thick barrel. Epps was the one to make a comment, his voice laced with surprise.

"Holy shit! Who are these guys?"

The stern looking man (unknown to Lennox and his group, this man was in fact Colonel Weller) pulled the trigger on the bulky prototype weapon. There was a loud metallic _shing_ sound and the end of the barrel flashed. There was a near impossible to track blur that hammered through the air, slamming into Lieutenant Douglas' face. The large supersonic round blew part of his head away in an explosion of blood, brain and bits of bone. Lennox, Epps and Graham watched aghast as Douglas fell, the three of them realizing that they were indeed in a spot of trouble.

"Take them down!" The stern looking man with the big gun ordered, "I want these NEST fuckers dead!"

The stern looking man sat himself down in the driver's seat, closing the door behind him. Lennox dived behind the nearest set of boxes while both Epps and Graham started running for cover, firing their rifles as they went. One of the commandoes was cut down under their combined fire, explosions of blood twirling him about where he stood. The other five commandoes brought up their silenced submachine guns and all started shooting, bullets hammering into the crates Lennox had ducked behind. Epps had moved behind the wall around the side of the open bay door while Graham was crouched behind a pillar, swearing loudly as bullets hammered at the cement close to his head and sent fragments flying into his face.

Lennox watched as the younger man in the maintenance worker's uniform (who was in fact Captain Farnell) went for the strange cylindrical device on the floor. Lennox brought up his pistol and fired a few rounds at the younger man, the bullets slamming into the floor near the device. This was more than enough to send the Captain stumbling backwards and he turned around, racing around the side of the van as he jumped into the passenger's seat.

Once he was in the older man gunned the van's engine, hurriedly reversing out of the loading bay. Two of the commandoes were knocked aside in their hurry to escape while the other two kept firing at Lennox, Epps and Graham. One of them stopped to reload and Lennox shot him right between the eyes, the commando's visor shattering as he went stumbling backwards.

Graham leaned around his pillar and sprayed fire across the three remaining commandoes, cutting two of them down while the other stumbled with a small explosion of blood erupting from his left knee. Immediately Lennox raced over to the wounded commando and kicked him in the ribs, sending him down before kicking aside the commando's dropped weapon.

The black van containing the two men in the maintenance worker uniforms had since floored it across the frosted cement outside, the van careering through the metal security gate before swerving back onto the street. Lennox watched it with disdain, trying to catch a glimpse of the licence plate but finding that he was unable to.

"Did anyone get the licence plate number?" He shouted, looking at both Epps and Graham. Both men shook their heads and Lennox could only swear loudly at this development.

However he soon noticed the cylindrical device with the glowing blue lines on it resting on the floor nearby. While Epps and Graham went to keep watch on the wounded commando Lennox had stepped over to the device, picking it up. He could hear a faint hum coming from within as he took a close look at it, turning it around in his hands as he took note of the small panel of switches and dials on one side. Whatever this device was it would certainly aid in solving this mystery, the mystery of the armed men in the palace maintenance tunnels. It occurred to Lennox that maybe this device was in fact what was emitting the EMP that Optimus had detected earlier. It seemed a safe enough guess anyway.

Epps frowned as he glanced over at Lennox, seeing the device and simply shaking his head.  
"Who were those guys?" Epps asked, causing Lennox's train of thought to break.

The Major looked up from the strange device, shaking his head.

"I have no idea," he said, looking towards the wounded commando who was on his knees in front of Graham.

Graham had since taken off the commando's helmet and visor revealing a rather young looking man with short-cut dark hair and brown eyes. He looked more afraid than anything else, as if the idea of being captured didn't appeal to him at all. Unfortunately he would have to get used to it since he would be coming straight back to Diego Garcia with the three of them.


	32. Witwicky

**Part IV: The Circle Opens  
**"_A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down."  
_Arnold H. Glasow

**

* * *

**

**Witwicky  
**Tranquility, Nevada  
December 16th, 2010

There was a sudden lurch and Sam Witwicky woke up, his head having been resting to one side as a thin trail of drool trickled from one corner of his mouth. The bus had sped over a speed-hump and had momentarily knocked the couple of dozen occupants within the bus around slightly, the elderly driver caring little as he kept the bus on third gear.

Bordering on adulthood, Sam Witwicky had been through a lot in the past few years. Time and again he had told himself he would live a normal life just like everybody else but so far he had had trouble fulfilling this wish, finding that whatever he did there was always somebody needing his help for some reason.

He yawned and wiped the drool from his mouth with a tissue he retrieved from his pocket, sitting up in his seat as the bus trundled along. Outside the sun was high as it reached its midday point, the sunlight reaching this part of the Earth unblocked since there was not a cloud in the sky. It would be a fairly hot day, even if it was getting to the middle of winter. Winter, in a desert area such as this simply meant that it would not be as hot as it usually was.

The inside of the bus was quite warm although the bus driver had had the care to switch on the air conditioning to some extent. Currently one of the air conditioning slits in the ceiling was sending a billowing cool breeze straight onto Sam's head. He shifted where he sat so it wasn't so direct, taking a look around at the other occupants in the bus and then back through his side's window.

Currently they were passing through the shopping streets of Tranquility, Sam's hometown. The streets themselves were only slightly populated since Tranquility itself was a fairly quiet town. Some would say that it was a perfect town but Sam knew better than to think this. No place was perfect, there were always secrets and there were always bad things going on somewhere. There was always something happening, whether it be good or bad. Those that thought Tranquility was a boring town were quite wrong in this assumption.

The streets here were lined with a variety of shops and restaurants, ranging from a movie rental place on the corner to a bakery further down the street. Tranquility was like any other town when it came to its shops and storefronts. The bus trundled past a supermarket (Carlson's Supermarket) and Sam was briefly reminded of the few times he had had to shop there. Usually it was because his mother had needed something, usually milk or bread or something. It was probably one of the more successful businesses in town, even if those rumours about the owner being a complete asshole to his employees were true.

Sam had since left Hamilton Hall College over in Seattle a couple of days ago, seizing on his chance to take a winter break through December and January. He had decided to come back to his hometown in order to visit his girlfriend Mikaela and his own parents, as well as Bumblebee the Autobot guardian that he had been first encountered a few years ago. Some might say that he and Bumblebee were a near inseparable pair and they would have been right, although college had kept Sam away from home and Bumblebee for a while. He had called the other day and had found that his parents had not been home, thinking that he could just show up and surprise them. He was sure they would just love to see their only child after a few months of not having seen him. Sam kept in touch by calling every now and then but lately he had not been able to, being almost waist-high in homework and assignments.

He had also made sure to keep in touch with Mikaela, something that was proving a bit hard to do with this long-distance dating thing. Lately talks had become more…well, the word to describe them would probably have been "sour". He had begun to think that she had tired of him but he was hoping that his visit in town today would fix that up. Nothing renewed relationships like a house call, he figured.

First things first he would go home and see if his parents were around. Family came first, followed by friends. Bumblebee would undoubtedly be at home, left with little else to do. Occasionally he had driven himself out to Seattle to pay Sam a visit but this had usually been only when he had had something important to tell him. For about the last six months very little had occurred in regards to the Decepticons and whatnot so Sam was thinking that those intergalactic bad guys had finally given up. Besides, his last brush with them had almost resulted in his death although he was quite sure he _had_ died. He couldn't be sure though since he was alive now and resurrections…well, they were just a bit hard to come by these days.

On the seat next to him he had placed his bag, currently containing a few changes of clothes in case his parents had thrown out what little he had left at home. As well as this there were a few textbooks and notes, that way he could keep up with his holiday homework even when he was in his hometown.

His back ached dully, something that did not surprise him in the slightest. Ever since his first brush with the intergalactic bad guys known as the Decepticons he had had a "bad back", something that was usually only found in older people and not young guys like him. He had been reluctant to get involved the next time when Optimus had confronted him at the cemetery but soon enough he had been dragged into it anyway, having had the most of the knowledge of the All-spark in his mind. Now that knowledge was gone as well as the fragment that had carried the knowledge. He occasionally wondered where that fragment had gone, remembering that he had last seen it in the Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC. No doubt someone had picked it up, but wherever it was now didn't matter to him.

He had been living a normal enough life for the past year, doing reasonably well at his courses at college and getting along fine with friends. He had not seen any other Autobot (or Decepticon, for that matter) other than Bumblebee for the past year, something that further hinted at the lack of any Decepticon action on this planet. At least it showed that they were winning but part of him missed the excitement and missed the alien friends he had gained. Then again whenever they got involved in his life something bad always happened, usually involving the fate of the world being set upon his shoulders. He had never handled well under that sort of pressure and was pleased with the easy year he had just had. Now he could sit back and take it easy for the last few weeks of 2010 and he would not have to worry about any sort of alien war or alien knowledge being downloaded into his brain. This would have to have been the most uneventful year he had had, just like 2008 had been.

The trip from Seattle had taken a while since he was restricted to using public transport and so had fallen asleep on the bus, probably as a result of the late night he had had last night and his early rise this morning. He could barely remember the weird dream he had just had, the memories of it being disjointed and hazy.

On the bus were about two dozen other people, with a few elderly folks sitting at the front end. Sam had seated himself in the window seat a few rows from the back section, finding it surprising that he had been able to fall asleep at all. A group of about four men all within their twenties were seated on the back seats, playing some sort of card game and talking loudly. A thirty-something year old African-American man was seated in front of Sam, an iPod in one pocket while the earphones were at his ears, blaring the music loudly as if the man _wanted_ to go deaf. His Caucasian friend with the light brown hair sat next to him, a newspaper held out in front of him as he read through the articles of interest.

At the other side of the bus sat some forty-something year old man who had gotten on at the Nevada-Oregon border. He was wearing a Texas cowboy style hat and a pale blue checkered shirt with a matching pair of blue jeans. He was fast asleep, his head resting on one shoulder while his hat was held in his lap. The blonde-haired teenager sitting behind him had used a permanent marker to scribble a few immature obscenities on the cowboy hat man's face. So far the cowboy hat man had failed to be woken up by the permanent marker's tip pressing against his features. Sam had to wonder if the teenager responsible for the drawings even knew the cowboy hat guy.

Scrawled on the back of the pair of seats in front of Sam were some similar obscenities and other graffiti, ranging from simple tags to more "humorous" examples: _In Soviet Russia, BUS rides YOU. Roy is a prick. JC was here._ Sam had no idea who Roy or JC were nor did he care much. Outside the bus had emerged into some familiar suburban area, nearing where Sam would be getting off of the bus.

The air inside the bus was musty and warm while some refuse littered the floor. An empty beer bottle clunked underneath the seats just in front of Sam as the bus turned a corner while a discarded pamphlet about the area's public transport slid nearby. Sam had never been one for public transport but had needed to use it on more than one occasion, especially when it had come to high school. When his parents couldn't drive him to school or pick him up he had had to take the bus and thus had received some of the typical bus annoyances: certain people had thrown papers and apple cores at him while cranky older bus drivers had made sure to yell at anyone stupid enough to eat on their bus. Sam had once been enjoying a candy bar when some old bus driver (the type who probably lived in a dirty old house with a bitchy wife) had stopped the bus and yelled at him for eating it while on board the bus. The bus driver had come to the conclusion that Sam would have simply littered on the bus as all of the other high school people had done. Of course Sam was far more considerate than that but of course it seemed that being considerate did not get one far in this world.

This particular bus seemed to be of the newer model, with somewhat comfortable chairs and air conditioning as well as large windows and advertisements plastered on the sides. Whatever newness it had had was long gone though, replaced by all sorts of discarded rubbish and refuse. The bus driver obviously didn't care enough to tell people off about it, having given up on keeping things clean long ago.

The African-American man sitting in front of Sam changed the song that he was listening to. The music itself was clearly audible and such volume must have been wreaking havoc on the man's eardrums but he didn't seem to notice this.

Some old Waterboys song (some British sounding pop group that Sam had barely heard of) came on through the earphones. It was some sort of 70s or 80s song, one that people in their thirties had probably grown up listening to.

"_I dreamed myself from the sultry plains…to the old green square back in old Maybole…Rode the wind up the Stornaway…paused at the peak, pacified my soul…"_

The African-American man's friend looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, shooting his friend a gaze that was a mix of concern and annoyance.

"Hey man, you trying to make yourself deaf?" The newspaper reading man asked. His friend with the iPod turned and looked at him, frowning.

"What?"

"You should turn it down!" The newspaper reader pointed to his ears, "you know, the music?"

"What?"

The song continued to play, probably one reason why the African-American man with the iPod was having trouble hearing. Either that r he was close to going deaf.

"_Caught the bus at the faery fort…made it to the mansion on the Boyne…See I come around to the ancient ways…I took a tip from the Buddha boy…"_

The newspaper reading man simply shook his head at his friend's absolute stupidity and then returned to reading his newspaper. The African-American man frowned and then turned back to facing the front, occasionally glancing out of the window as the song hit its chorus.

"_I just found God! (I…just…found…God…) Oh yeah, I just found God! (I…just…found…God…) Oh yeah, I just found God where he always was!"_

Sam took a look out of the window, recognizing the street and realizing that it was about the right place for him to get off. He rang the bell that alerted the driver that he wanted the bus to stop whilst he gathered up his bags. He stood up, moments from when the bus pulled to a sudden halt at the side of the road near a bus shelter. The sudden stop made Sam stumble and his hand unexpectedly found its way onto the African-American man's balding head. The man turned around with a look of annoyance as Sam removed his hand, managing a nervous smile as he regained his footing on the floor of the bus.

"Sorry…" Sam managed to say, seconds before the African-American man pulled the earphones out of his ears and began swearing.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He barked, "You some kind of a fucking pervert or something? Touching my fucking head…I'll beat the shit out of you, you skinny little white punk!"

The newspaper reading man looked up to see what all the fuss was about, simply raising an eyebrow as he met Sam's startled gaze. Sam realized that it was just his luck to start a fight as he was getting off of the bus and so kept his nervous smile, starting for the open door a few paces to his right.

"What, here on the bus?" Sam asked, "That's a bit dangerous, don't you think? Someone might get hurt."

Sam turned around and left the surprisingly angry African-American man behind, thinking nothing of the shallow threats and insults that had been hurled his way. It came with being in the territory, having returned to his hometown after most of the year away. He wouldn't be surprised if he happened to bump into the partially deaf man in the street later on, he just wasn't sure what he would do about him then.

Outside the sun was closing in to its higher-most midday point. The air was warm and the sky had a few white fluffy clouds spread out across it. In all it seemed to be a reasonably nice day, even if it was officially winter in the northern hemisphere. Still, global warming was probably a major player in forming the current weather. Not that Sam minded much, he preferred it to be warm rather than freezing cold like it had been up in Seattle.

The bus's doors closed a few seconds after he had stepped onto the curb, the bus shifting up to first gear as it sped away, disappearing around a corner further down the road. Sam was left standing on the side of a typical suburban street lined with almost identical double-storey houses, the front lawns green and neatly mowed while the driveways were either empty or populated by one or two expensive family cars.

There was a warm feeling developing within Sam as he stepped onto the sidewalk as realized that he was back home for the first time in several months. He could catch up with old friends, catch up with his parents…and maybe even catch up with Bumblebee, even if the Autobot couldn't talk. Sam had long ago figured that Bumblebee kept up the whole "can't talk" thing just to be cute since it seemed odd to think that his vocal processors hadn't been fixed by now. Ratchet had been meaning to do that ever since the chaos at Mission City and that had been close to three full years ago.

Well, as far as Sam could tell the whole "can't talk" thing did bring an extra cuteness to what was otherwise a large and yellow alien robot. The possibility that Bumblebee was off working with NEST did cross Sam's mind but even so it didn't matter. The Autobot did need something to do and hanging around Tranquility would no doubt get boring fairly quickly.

Sam looked around at the street, recognizing it as one close to his home. Without further delay he started on his way down the street, passing the picturesque double storey houses that were no doubt excellent examples of the American dream. Most of this town seemed to be comprised of American families living the typical middle-class existence, with designer dogs and well trimmed lawns and double-storey houses that had pointless rumpus rooms. The front gardens were all well maintained and fairly colourful, even in winter. Some people's sprinklers were on and a light spray caught Sam as he went past one house in particular, feeling the cool water splash onto his face as he walked along the sidewalk. Above a light plane flew up high, the buzz of its engine quite audible in the quiet environment of the street.

Sam rounded a corner at the end of the street, arriving on the very street where his house was located. He didn't recognize it at first since it had changed in places but it didn't take him long to recognize the mailbox and the colour of the tiles on the roof which were slightly lighter when compared with those of the other houses on the same street. There were no cars in the driveway, something that he noticed as he crossed the street and headed for what had been his proper home for most of his life up until last year. Last year he had moved out and gone to college and his father had mentioned something about replacing his bedroom with a large home-entertainment system.

The last time Sam had seen his house it had been a bit of a wreck thanks to an incident with an All-spark sliver, some common home appliances and Bumblebee blasting the resultant wild Decepticons away with his cannons. The lawn had been ruined as had been the footpath that Sam's father had taken the time to painstakingly build himself, making each tile match perfectly and fit perfectly with the others. Sam's bedroom had been left a smouldering wreck as had the kitchen.

Understandably those parts of the house had been renovated thanks to taxpayer money. In order to keep the Witwicky family quiet when it came to anything related to the alien robots or the All-spark the government had been willing to pay them some compensation and such compensation money had been used to give the house a good and whole renovation. He noticed the slightly different coloured bricks and wood panelling near his bedroom window on the second storey while the lawn had been fixed from it's the crater-marked state it had been when Sam had left it last year.

What struck Sam as odd was how neither of his two dogs had raced up to meet him. Sure, they might have been lazy but they never missed a chance to greet their favourite human being as he came walking up the driveway. Sam was doing just that right now, walking up the driveway with a slightly bemused expression on his face. The garage ahead was closed and there was no hint of life from any part of the house, leaving Sam confused as to where everybody could have gone. Sure, he could understand his parents being away (they hadn't been home when he had called the other day) but where were the dogs? And Bumblebee?

Regardless he decided to announce his presence to anybody who might have been home, approaching the front door and knocking loudly. There was no response.

"Mom? Dad?" He tried to look inside through the security screen on the door, finding that the hallway beyond was deserted. He turned his attention to the garage, walking over as he knocked loudly on the side.

"Bumblebee? Are you in there?"

He had been expecting the familiar yellow Chevrolet Camaro with the black stripes on its hood to come racing out of the garage at the sound of his voice but unfortunately that didn't happen. Bumblebee was probably off working with NEST, a move that Sam could understand since there was very little to do here in Tranquility, Nevada.

Sam headed back over to the front door, rummaging in the pockets of his jeans as he searched for the house keys. Hopefully his father hadn't changed the locks although he wouldn't be surprised if this had been done while Sam had been away. Thankfully the key Sam had slid effortlessly into the lock on the security door, allowing Sam to open it and then use his next key to unlock the bulky wooden door behind.

Beyond was the hallway with stairs at one end, a lounge at the left and a kitchen through the arch shaped doorway straight ahead. The carpet on the timber floor reduced his footsteps to dull thumps as Sam stepped inside, closing the doors shut behind him as he went on into the quiet of the family home.

Where was everyone? The lack of both dogs concerned him but he was relieved when he stumbled across a note on stuck on the fridge with a magnet that was advertising some gas and electricity company. The note had been scrawled in his father's messy handwriting, describing how his parents had figured that Sam would come down for a visit. The dogs were at the local kennels while his parents had gone to San Francisco to visit Sam's uncle and aunty. They wouldn't be back for a few days, leaving Sam with full reign over the house.

That still didn't explain where Bumblebee was. Still, it was a safe bet that the Autobot had headed off to hang out with the other Autobots at wherever NEST had its headquarters. Sam scrunched up the hastily scribbled note and threw it in the direction of the bin in the corner, missing by about six inches to the right. Leaving it where it had come to rest Sam headed back out into the hallway, thinking that he ought to check out his bedroom and see what had been changed.

Heading upstairs, Sam came to an entirely different room where his bedroom had once been. In fact there was no evidence that it had at anytime been a bedroom. Where the bed had been was a large television cabinet, taken up by one of the largest plasma screen televisions Sam had ever come across. DVD covers were lined up on the shelves near the television while a large light brown couch was at the other side of the room, at an angle so that it faced the television. Surround sound speakers hung up in the corners of the room, close to the ceilings.

For a moment Sam stood dumbfounded at how his father could have been so inconsiderate when it came to his own son's childhood but this feeling was short-lived. Sam had no longer any need for his bedroom but it did surprise him how his father could have been able to afford such items. A plasma television and surround sound speakers? Sure, they might have been middle class but they weren't exactly rich.

Stepping over to the television Sam flicked it on, being greeted with what appeared to be a _MacGyver_ rerun on one of the channels. From the fifteen minutes that Sam stood watching the campy eighties show he gathered that the hero, MacGyver, was on the trail of some Neo-Nazis that had managed to infiltrate many institutions in America in order to reinstate a new Reich or Aryan supremacy…or something like that. Sam switched off the television once he grew tired of the show, heading out of what had once been his bedroom and heading for the kitchen.

He had free reign over the whole house. This was a thought that made him smile as he went down the stairs as other thoughts about checking what his parents had stored in the fridge and pantry came into his mind. He was hungry, a long bus trip could do that to someone so he headed into the kitchen again and opened the fridge. Dissatisfied with what was inside he opened the freezer and found a mostly full tub of vanilla ice cream. Taking a spoon out of a drawer nearby Sam went to work on eating some of the ice cream, realizing that he hadn't had ice cream for quite a while.

That was when he heard the familiar rumble of a certain car's engine as it pulled into the driveway. It didn't take him long to work out what car it was and he briskly walked outside, back into the sunshine as a yellow Chevrolet Camaro pulled into the driveway. It was Bumblebee in vehicle mode and Sam could only smile as he saw his Autobot friend.

"Bumblebee! It's me, I'm back!" Sam cheerfully announced, spooning some more ice cream out of the tub as he approached the car.

Bumblebee honked his horn in obvious excitement but this ended abruptly, the radio inside the car flickering into life as Bumblebee delivered a few radio sound-bytes due to his lack of working vocal processors. Of course, Sam doubted that the Autobot's voice wasn't working but he didn't bother to bring this point up.

Sam could tell that something was bothering Bumblebee and was about to ask the Autobot where he had been when Bumblebee spoke before he did, effectively silencing him.

"_Come with me if you want to live,"_ Bumblebee said, using what was undoubtedly a sound-byte out of a movie.

"What? Not even a hello?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. Still he could see that something had stirred Bumblebee right up and so decided to let the Autobot "talk".

"_It's important that you come with me,"_ Bumblebee continued, delivering the movie sound-bytes at a fast pace, _"I have something to show you."_

Sam, still eating the ice cream from the tub he was holding, simply shrugged as Bumblebee opened the driver's side door to allow him entry. Whatever Bumblebee wanted to show him it was probably a better way to spend the time than hanging around at an empty house.

* * *

**A/N:** And Sam Witwicky finally shows up. You, the reader, may be thinking that this story has "forgotten" it's own plot but far from it: the last several chapters may have dealt with NEST and Colonel Weller, but the next few will return to the characters I set up earlier on, including Jones Marshall and James Turner as well as Deadeye.


	33. Car Troubles

**Car Troubles  
**Tranquility, Nevada  
December 16th, 2010

On December 13th, Jones Marshall had lost his job at Carlson's Supermarket. He didn't care too much about this, having hated his boss since he had more or less been an asshole. Jones had been bringing the income into his home and yet had been forced to watch his mother spend it away on things she wanted while the house was left unmaintained and the bills were left to pile up inside the mailbox. Jones knew that he was simply just some loser who lived with his mother and worked at a grocery store but he was determined that one day he would amount to something. He was planning on leaving town one day in order to see more of the great country he lived in and maybe (but it was a big maybe) he might be able to get a half decent job.

He needed money and without his job he had very little money left. His mother had been understandably annoyed at her son's sudden lack of employment but Jones had ignored her ramblings, heading up to his bedroom and having switched on the television. He had taken out his somewhat outdated mobile phone, remembering the phone number he had seen in the newspaper advertisement back at Carlson's Supermarket minutes prior to his loss of employment. It was just some dodgy competition to win some flashy Red sports car but Jones had nothing to lose and so had dialled the number, played along with the recorded voice and had willingly paid the three dollars required to enter the raffle.

He certainly had never won a raffle and couldn't work out why he had bothered with this one on this particular day (December 13th, 2010) but he had done it anyway, feeling that if he did win anything then maybe he might be temporarily distracted from his crappy life. The people in the past who had told him that he was a loser who could not win a simple raffle had been right about both facts: Jones had never won a raffle in his life and he knew better than anyone that he was a loser. He was a damned loser who lived with his mother and had just lost the crappy job he had had over at the supermarket. The sheer thought pissed him off and Jones had simply stayed in his bedroom that day, watching television and eating cream-filled Twinkies.

He could down as many of the treats as he wanted without gaining much weight. Jones was blessed with a fast metabolism and seemed to have trouble gaining weight, even if he wanted some in order to buff up more successfully. Twinkies, especially the chocolate ones, were his favourite type of "light" snack and thus had many stashed away in his bedroom. Something told him that his mother would be more than willing to take them off of him for herself even though she probably needed to lose a little weight. Recently Jones had noticed that his mother had been gaining some weight and had been snacking more frequently but then again his mother had always been like that. She was in her fifties and tended to go out with her lady friends to shopping malls and cinemas practically every day. No wonder this household had barely any money left in it.

Jones had started looking for employment on December 14th, probing the classifieds in the local newspaper and circling anything that piqued his interest with a black permanent marker. He had called numerous places, first trying for at the local supermarkets and other stores before giving up for the day. He had no tertiary education and that meant no fancy degree or diploma. He had been meaning to go to college one day but unfortunately he didn't have the money to pay for an education like that. He had always had the dream of becoming some sort of scientist, having always been interested in engineering. As well as this he had spent his spare time writing movie scripts but of course such attempts at becoming a big-name Hollywood screenwriter were futile. He was just a nobody in a typical American town who had too much time on his hands and was out of a crappy job. Once again Jones had realized that his life sucked but he was still rather confident that one day he would amount to something, regardless of whether it meant he would become an engineer or a screenwriter or something…

Jones' current piece of screenwriting was about one-hundred and twelve pages long (and if one were to go with the old screenwriting belief "one page equals one minute of screen-time" then Jones had succeeded in writing a feature-length film) and was full of action and adventure and…blatant movie rip-offs, most notably _Indiana Jones_. Still, Jones kept writing and was hoping to soon reach the two-hundred page mark since there was still a fair bit of story left in it.

On television on December 14th there had been some sort of late-night television special that went for an hour and a half, detailing the recent government cover-ups of late. Jones' friend Richard had been into this sort of conspiracy thing and had always taken the chance to tell Jones about whatever conspiracy theory he had recently heard about, ranging from the somewhat plausible to the absurd.

This television special was hosted by some fifty-something year old man with greying hair and glasses who spoke in a calm but serious voice, detailing the mysterious events that had transpired in Giza in Egypt last year. The official government story had been a terrorist attack but this, according to the host of the show, was a mere cover story for a military experiment gone wrong. Apparent military attack robots had been tested out near the pyramids for some reason (the host of the television special didn't elaborate on why this was the case) and had managed to successfully destroy the Great Pyramid.

_What a load of crap, _Jones had thought while switching to another channel in time to catch a _Star Trek_ rerun. He had sat and watched as Captain Kirk had been forced to battle a reptilian alien (which was quite obviously some guy in a rubber suit) on a desert planet in order to save his ship (the _Enterprise_) from destruction. Despite the campiness of it all and the obviously fake desert set Jones had stayed up and watched it. The desert rocks looked like they were made of cardboard and they probably _were_ made of cardboard. The thought occurred to him as the end credits ran: Reptilian aliens? That was something he could put in his next movie script.

On December 15th Jones had recalled entering the raffle having since received the ticket marked BLUE-009. He also realized that the raffle was being held in the town hall today, the whole thing being some charity fundraiser or something. Until then he had spent the morning searching the classifieds section of the day's paper and by noon he had left, taking the bus to the town hall where a steady crowd had developed inside while some flashy red sports car had been on display at the front. The car was the main prize while there were numerous other prizes, ranging from dodgy hampers filled with chocolates and cakes (Jones wouldn't have minded having won a hamper with said chocolates and cakes in them) to more substantial prizes, such as fancy looking bags and an LCD television.

Jones had managed to sit through the boring speeches some people with greying hair had delivered, going on about how successful they had been in raising money for some charity that Jones had never heard of. Some old guy had stepped to the podium at the front and had delivered a few rambling anecdotes about how he had been running this charity for several years and blah, blah blah…Jones had almost fallen asleep but he had had too good a night's sleep the night before and had trouble succeeding in willing himself to sleep again. He just wasn't tired enough and so had remained awake through all of the boring exposition delivered by the people who had stepped to the front.

Then the raffle had begun and each prize was drawn, starting with the insignificant hampers up to the fancy bags and LCD television set. Finally, after about half an hour or more of waiting the final prize was drawn and Jones had been sitting with a bored look across his features, figuring that he had just managed to waste a few hours of his time for nothing. If he had remembered he might have brought a few more raffle tickets at the door but he hadn't it, now left with the one lone raffle ticket that he had gripped in his right hand.

The old guy at the front had reached into the plastic container filled with tickets and had withdrawn a blue one, taking a look at it and announcing the number: BLUE-009. It had taken Jones about a moment to realize that was his ticket and had been overcome with so much surprise he almost fainted. Here he was, in some sweltering hot town hall listening to old people talk about fundraising and all of a sudden he had won some flashy red sports car, complete with a shiny paintjob and sleek aerodynamic design. He had almost wet himself but had managed to keep his bladder under control, stepping to the front to a round of applause as the old guy shook his hand and gave him the car keys. The car was his and well…it felt good to have actually won something for once in his life.

Jones had been given the microphone and had delivered a few nervous words about how he had only been in the raffle to win the car. The old guy had laughed and had given him some legal documents that signed the car over to his possession. Once the gathering in the town hall was over the car had been shifted out front and Jones had been allowed to drive off with it, being forced to stand by it as the old guy in charge of the charity went on to ramble on about himself and more or less deliver his life story. Jones had listened and pretended to be fascinated, nodding every now and then until the old guy finally finished and gave Jones the chance to leave.

His mother hadn't been impressed with his recent win, telling him that he should be concentrating on finding a job rather than entering "damn raffles". Jones hadn't cared much for what she had said, preferring to spend the remainder of that day cruising around town as he went about to visit some of his friends from his previous place of work (Carlson's Supermarket) before heading back home in time to catch another _Star Trek_ rerun.

Now at about midday on December 16th Jones had gone out of his way to give his friend Richard a drive around town. Richard was still working at Carlson's Supermarket but he didn't have a shift on a Thursday such as this so both he and Jones had decided to spend the first half of the day out on the streets, cruising around before heading out to one of the more secluded desert highways that ran out of town and taking the opportunity of no police presence to floor the accelerator along those long desert roads. After a couple of hours of doing this Richard had mentioned something about how he had to go to for a job interview at a retail store back in town. Apparently Richard was just as fed up with his job at Carlson's Supermarket as Jones had been before he had gotten thrown out of his employment position and so had applied for a position at some other places in town.

Along the way Richard had managed to get started on another talk about government conspiracies and cover-ups. He went on and on about how reptilian aliens (those again? What a coincidence, Jones thought) had been in control of the United States government since the 1980s and had made the Americans go into Iraq to begin the first Gulf War in order to recover some other aliens that had escaped from slavery under the reptilian aliens since these slave aliens had crash landed in Iraq and Saddam Hussein had given shelter to them in exchange for advanced technology.

Then Richard had gone on about some other government conspiracy, one about the so-called "Mission City Incident" that was apparently the result of some escaped prototype attack robots from some company called McLaren Robotics. Of course this was all a cover story for the _real_ truth, the "real truth" being that the city had been attacked by giant alien robots and the military had been deployed to stop them.

"Where the hell do you hear this stuff?" Jones asked as he pulled to a stop at some traffic lights.

Richard looked up, taking a moment to come up with an answer. He sounded like he believed in everything he had been talking about and Jones supposed he would have had to in order to even bring this sort of thing up in conversation.

"There's this website dedicated to the whole alien robots thing," Richard said, "actually, there's a few. They have videos, eyewitness accounts…everything."  
"Uh-huh," Jones said, doubtful, "and you believe this stuff?"

Richard nodded, his eyes brightening up as he saw his friend's disbelieving expression.

"Say…how's that movie script of yours going?" Richard asked, changing the topic of conversation. Jones was momentarily caught off guard, still trying to work out what all of this conspiracy theory nonsense had been about and why anyone would even bother having websites dedicated to revealing the existence of giant alien robots.

"The movie script?" Jones asked, frowning. He had last worked on it last night, having used his somewhat outdated personal computer to type up a few more pages, adding further action sequences to an already action-packed movie script. Of course, there was its fair share of character development as well since he knew better than anyone that a movie that was all explosions and now character development would be crap.

"Yeah, the one you said you were writing that was apparently some sort of cross between _Indiana Jones_ and an alien movie…"

"Oh, yeah, right…_that_ script…" Jones trailed off for a moment, thinking about it. The exact storyline was something he had simply made up as he wrote, starting it off as an adventure movie until the aliens showed up unexpectedly, probably a result of him having watched that _Star Trek_ episode recently that had featured a reptilian alien.

"Yeah, it's coming along fine," Jones added matter-of-factly. The lights at the intersection turned green and Jones eased on the accelerator, turning right and heading out onto a street that was lined with some retail stores. One of these was the one Richard was going to get interviewed at and if Jones remembered correctly it was some electronics store. It would probably be a much better job than that of one at a supermarket but would likely be just as dull. Then again, a lot of jobs like that _were_ dull.

"If it were a movie, Rutger Hauer would be in it."

Richard suddenly nudged him whilst pointing to one of the storefronts nearby. At that same instant Jones' mobile phone vibrated in his pocket and he was about to pull it out when he realized that driving and talking on the mobile phone at the same time was just an easier way of having an accident. The last thing Jones needed was to trash his brand new car on the second day of his owning it.

"This is the place, stop here," Richard said.

Jones pulled to a stop at the side of the road, sending the car into a parking spot on the side of the street with ease. Jones' mobile phone kept vibrating in his pocket as someone, whoever it was, persisted in calling him. When the vibrating stopped it would suddenly start up again a few seconds later as the person on the other end of the line dialled his number again…and again…

Richard opened the passenger side door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, closing the door behind him and managing a look back at his friend in the car.

"I'll see you later, Jonesy," Richard said, using the nickname that Jones didn't really like. Still Jones bade his friend farewell and watched as Richard made his way into the electronics store, taking a look at the expensive plasma and LCD televisions on display behind the front window.

Once Richard was gone Jones seized the opportunity to find out who had repeatedly called him in the last few minutes. He retrieved his mobile phone from his left trouser pocket and took one look at the screen to see who was calling him. It was his mother, there was no doubt about that. The number matched their home one exactly.

_What the hell does she want now?_ He wondered as he pressed the button that received calls before he placed the phone to his ear. His mother's voice filtered through, loud and annoyed as she went on to berate him over the phone.

"_Jones, why the hell didn't you pick up the first time? I been calling you for the last five minutes…"_

Jones sighed, rolling his eyes before he came up with a suitable reply. He could humour his mother (which was probably the better idea) or just hang up now in order to piss her off more. The latter idea made him smile but he knew that it would only cause more trouble. Things between him and his mother were rough enough already.

"I was driving," Jones replied, trying to keep his voice level, "I only just pulled over now. You know you can't be on a mobile phone and drive at the same time…"

The reply he received was typical of his mother and it simply made Jones shake his head. Why did he put up with her anyway? Why couldn't he just leave town and see how she managed by herself? He knew that he was the only one in the household who actually kept things running. He was a _necessity_ in the Marshall household and yet his mother was an absolute…well, he didn't want to be harsh on her but this was the truth: she was a bitch. She had gone that way when her husband had left for Africa a few years earlier.

Jones didn't know why he even bothered staying here in Tranquility. He wanted to amount to something more than being a nobody in some picture-perfect town out in the middle of Nevada yet his mother was the one keeping him down. He stayed because he felt obligated in helping the very woman who had carried him for nine months and brought him into the world. Even though she was a bitch she was still his mother. Jones vowed that one day he would gather the guts to depart Tranquility but that day seemed far off. He needed some money for starters and he was sort of short on that.

"_I don't give a damn about what you can and can't do while you're driving!" _His mother barked, her voice loud and screeching, sort of like a bird that was dying in agony. _"I need you to do a few things for me rather than have you just driving around town hanging around with your dumbass friends."_

Jones wasn't surprised to hear the "I need you to do a few things for me" part. It seemed that was his only purpose when it came to living with his mother: he was to cater for her every need. That meant paying the bills, cooking dinner, mowing the lawn…even bringing in the income. Unfortunately with his recent loss of his job at Carlson's Supermarket that income had all but dried up.

"What do you want me to do, mom?" Jones asked, trying his best to keep the frustration out of his voice. His mother was damn good at picking up on changes in his emotions just through his voice and would probably berate him even more if she even sensed that he was tired of being bossed around.

"_I'm out of milk…and a certain lady's requirement. I need you to buy me some more."_

Jones sighed again. This "certain lady's requirement" would have been tampons and he certainly felt silly walking up to the counter at a store holding a packet of them. He had done it numerous times in the past but it never ceased to be embarrassing, even if the guy at the counter couldn't give a hoot about what he was buying. The counter people were paid to scan items and pack bags, not pass judgement on their customers even though they often did.

"You mean the things in the pink packet?" Jones asked, smirking. Some might have said that he was immature but he didn't care.

"_Yeah, those."_

"And milk?"

"_What the hell are you, deaf? I need milk. Oh, and bread. Don't forget bread."_

Jones thought about where he would have to go to get these things. Carlson's Supermarket was on the other side of town so the only other place he could think of was the Super-Save a few streets back that he had passed. He had barely shopped there, primarily because if his Carlson had caught him shopping at his main competitor then he would have sacked Jones. Not that that mattered anymore anyway.

"Yeah, sure mom, whatever you want," Jones replied. He didn't give his mother a chance to continue since he hung up on her there and then.

Jones put away his mobile phone and guided his car back onto the road, turning around in order to head to the Super-Save. It was about a ten minute drive including the time taken to wait at red lights and such. Jones came to a stop in the massive parking lot outside the front of the major supermarket, finding most of the parking spaces closer to the front occupied so he parked his car towards the far end of the parking lot.

He climbed out of the flashy red sports car, locking the door behind him and checking to see if it had stayed locked. He walked on over to the front of the large white building with the words SUPER-SAVE above the front entrance in big red capital letters. The supermarket received much more business than Carlson's Supermarket and was considerably bigger in size. They had everything here, ranging from pharmaceutical supplies to gardening supplies as well as any supermarket food you could think of.

The automatic glass doors at the front slid open as Jones approached, an elderly woman wheeling a trolley packed full of plastic bags which in turn were full of groceries coming out of the supermarket. Jones continued on into the bright and mostly shades of white and grey interior, stepping into what was air conditioned bliss compared to outside. The whole interior was held at a cool temperature, even for a place as big as this.

Aisles and aisles of shelving lay ahead while the garden section was over in the far corner. In the other corner were the pharmaceutical supplies, including deodorant and such. Jones passed through some alarm beepers (the sort of devices that sounded a high-pitched alarm when someone walked out with goods that had not been paid-for) and continued into the main supermarket area itself. There were plenty of other people milling about the store; some of them were carrying items under the arms while others wheeled trolleys full of food.

Jones started on over to the pharmaceutical section. It took him a few minutes to locate the particular type and brand of tampons his mother always used. Jones used one of the plastic shopping baskets available to hide the pink packet of tampons inside, thinking that the last thing he needed was to be seen carrying that sort of thing around with him by all the people that were currently shopping inside. He then went on over to the aisle where the bread was, having to follow the many signs that hung from the ceilings that told someone where certain types of gods were kept.

He put a few loaves of white bread into the shopping basket before heading over to the cooled food section, placing a pair of cartons of milk into the basket as well. With the items in the basket he went on back to the front of the supermarket, finding a checkout that had no queue waiting for its use. There was a young Arab looking man in a supermarket uniform standing behind the counter who was managing to portray how bored he was through the frown on his face. He didn't look too happy but he seemed to light up somewhat as Jones approached, providing a false customer service smile as Jones began to place the goods he had collected onto the checkout's bench.

"Good afternoon," the Arab man said, "how are you going?"

Standard customer service sayings those were. Jones was used to hearing them since he was the one who had to do the shopping and today was no different.

"Just great," Jones replied half-heartedly.

It didn't take long for the items to be scanned and the price totalled up. The Arab man (who was wearing a name-badge that read ALI on his uniform) took an extended look at the packet of tampons. Again, Jones felt that someone was passing judgement upon him for the things he had bought.

"They're for my mom," Jones said bluntly although he could tell that Ali didn't believe him.

Jones left the matter at that as he handed over the appropriate amount of money and was handed the plastic bag containing the items in return. With the errand for his mother done Jones would leave, get back in his car and go home. He wanted to watch some television, perhaps some DVDS…

"See you later," Ali said with a grin as Jones left. Jones didn't return the favour, simply stepping back out into the Nevada heat before heading back towards his car.

On the road he watched as an expensive looking sports car, one that was yellow with black racing stripes painted down its front, went speeding by. Jones thought nothing of this, simply thinking that whoever owned that car must be damn rich (or damn lucky as Jones had been to win his new car). An old man on a bicycle went cycling past and he stopped at the curb to tie his shoelace. Again, Jones didn't think anything of this…

His heart skipped a beat as he watched his car, the one that _he_ had won pull out of its parking space and turn to head onto the road. There wouldn't have been any problem to this except for one thing: Jones wasn't even halfway to his car yet. He wasn't inside. That could only mean one thing and when the realization dawned on him he dropped the bag of groceries and started running.

Some bastards were stealing his car. This was just typical of his luck: the one time he had won something and he was about to lose that prize because some cheapskates were stealing it. He wasn't about to let them get away that easy though, even as his car sped onto the road and started travelling within legal speed (which surprised him since he had been expecting them to speed away in order to get away from the disgruntled owner that was running towards them). No doubt getting his car back would be difficult…but he was determined to do it one way or another.

"Hey! HEY! Those bastards are stealing my car!" Jones was running at full pelt now, receiving some odd glances from nearby pedestrians as he bolted across the car park. Jones wasn't even sure whether it was one person or a few who were making off with his car since he couldn't see inside from this angle…

He watched with dismay as his stolen car made it onto the road and followed in the wake of the yellow Camaro. Jones stopped at the curb, puffing and panting. He hadn't done much running recently and so a short sprint like that was simply a bit too much for him.

The old man with the bicycle looked at Jones in a funny way, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Say son, you look like you got bitten in the ass by a wild animal…" The old man had begun to talk but Jones stepped towards him, cutting him off in mid-sentence as he forcefully pushed the old man off of his bicycle. The old man landed on the pavement with a pained grunt, swearing under his breath as Jones mounted his bicycle.

"Sorry man, I gotta borrow this," Jones said as he started pedalling away. He figured he was making an awfully rash decision by stealing some old guy's bike but then again he was quite determined in the task he had set himself. He could see his car speeding down the road, following the yellow Camaro by a few metres.

What was this? Some sort of gathering of stolen vehicles? Jones wasn't sure nor did he give it much thought as he started pedalling down the sidewalk, the wheels bumping over the gaps in the pavement. Behind him the old man had risen onto his feet and had begun to run after him, giving up as Jones was simply too fast on the bicycle.

Jones watched as his car disappeared around a corner. As he pedalled after it he used his left hand to take out his mobile phone, finding the task of pedalling and dialling 911 to be quite difficult. He unexpectedly bounced over a hole in the pavement and the mobile phone went flying out of his hands, smashing to pieces on the pavement below. In any other situation he would have stopped to pick it up but this was a unique situation and the urge to retrieve his car outweighed the urge he had to retrieve the pieces of his phone.

_I'm going to get these thieving bastards,_ he thought, _and when I do get a hold of them I'll…I'll…_

He didn't know what he would do. In the meantime all he could do was keep on pedalling as his red sports car started on its way along a main road, heading out of town. In front of it was the yellow Camaro, the two travelling in some sort of miniature convoy. Still Jones trailed behind, trying to catch a glimpse of the occupants but being unable to reach the right angle. He just wasn't quick enough on the bicycle.

Already his legs were beginning to tire but still he pressed on. He wasn't about to lose the car he had only just won yesterday for Christ's sake. He kept on pedalling after his stolen car, heading further and further out of town. Wherever these guys were going it wasn't anywhere Jones had visited before.


	34. Gathering of Autobots

**Gathering of Autobots  
**Tranquility, Nevada  
December 16th, 2010

On the horizon rain clouds were visible, perhaps the first lot of rain clouds Tranquility had seen this December. They were gradually moving in over the desert outside of town, large and grey and ominous. They certainly had an imposing quality about them, as if the clouds wanted to show the humans in town that they meant business. No doubt those clouds would be over Tranquility in a few hours and they would probably provide an utter downpour, something that would relieve most people when it came to their gardens but would prove to be an inconvenience to the rest.

The western outskirts of town were home to a range of typical industrial areas, from warehouses to a large refinery. Old canals snaked their way through this industrial zone and were mostly dry of water for it had not rained for a while. The canals made good hangouts for the lowlifes of Tranquility and so unsurprisingly the walls of the canals were covered with all sorts of graffiti, some of it having been there since the 1970s. Some might have said that as a result the graffiti had "historical" value to it but most couldn't care less. As long as it remained out of the way and down in the canals then nobody could care less about it.

There was an old train or rail yard (whatever one wanted to call it) located amongst some disused warehouses. Such a location made the perfect place for secretive gatherings and this occasion was no different. The train yard hadn't seen use for a number of years and had fallen into a state of disrepair, with the rusting hulks of old freight train carriages scattered about one of the open yards while cars with bricks instead of wheels had been left to rot amongst the mix of old metal. Some people of Tranquility had turned this area into a sort of dumping ground and so there were plenty of old disused items such as washing machines and broken television sets lying around the yard. A pile of broken television sets, some as old as twenty years were piled on top of one another near a discarded metal freight container. These television sets were now overgrown with weeds and parts of them had rusted or simply decayed, having been exposed to the elements for a long time. A set of train tracks ran through the yard and if one were to have followed them those train tracks would have taken them right out of town and into the desert beyond.

There were a few rusty train carriages on one set of tracks on the other side of the yard. Some discarded metal freight containers which were now all covered with intricate graffiti lay next to these carriages, creating a sort of little area amongst the rusted and discarded metal objects. An old car had been parked in the centre of this small meeting area behind the containers and carriages and had been left to the elements for at least a decade. By now the wheels had been stolen and the windows had been smashed out while the metal of the car had rusted considerably. However, there was a sign that someone had been here recently since a few discarded KFC boxes had been left inside the wreck of the rusted old car. No doubt people used this place as a sort of private get together area, able to get some private time away from the rest of the world. The only witnesses to these gatherings would have been the old rundown buildings nearby, their windows boarded and broken while their lower walls were covered with more intricate graffiti. In all it was a place that allowed people to "hang out" and let a load off, able to escape from the prying eyes of the public.

The yard was quiet save for the distant sounds of traffic and the machinery noises coming from the oil refinery down the road. A column of flame erupted from the top of one of the refinery's towers as the machinery within the buildings worked at refining raw oil into useable gas. A look at the oil refinery would have made someone think the whole place was deserted of human life. In fact there were plenty of workers within; they just didn't hang around outside very often. Most of the refinery's workings were automated as was the case with most industrial places like it. Human workers, it seemed, were getting obsolete.

The rumble of a powerful engine broke the silence, scaring a few nesting birds from their little hidey-hole up in the corner of one of the shelters in the yard. They went fluttering away in fright as a yellow sports car of the Chevrolet Camaro variety came speeding into the rail yard. A pair of thick black racing stripes was on its front, indicating a custom paint job and a wealthy owner. Of course, the owner wasn't really "wealthy" and had been more or less lucky to get the car.

When Sam Witwicky had first purchased the car for about three thousand dollars it had been a battered and old 1972 Chevrolet Camaro. This had been before he had known it had been Bumblebee and after finding out the truth about his car it hadn't been long before the Autobot had upgraded to a somewhat more modern form. Sam didn't mind driving around in a fifth generation Chevrolet Camaro since he was quite certain that with it he probably owned the best car in town.

Bumblebee had been sent to watch over Sam after the battle at Mission City. Some could say that the Autobot and the human were inseparable as friends and that was probably an accurate enough assumption. The pair had been through thick and thin together and had understandably formed a rigid friendship, even if they were both of entirely different species. Sam still wasn't sure if the term "species" worked in conjunction with an alien robot but after some brief thought about it he decided that it didn't matter at all.

Sam was seated in the driver's seat, still a little bemused as to what Bumblebee wanted to show him. He could tell that the Autobot was somewhat excited although it was hard to tell exactly since Sam wasn't much of an expert at working out what a robot was thinking simply from the way it looked. Whatever Bumblebee wanted to show him it must have been important. What it had to do with coming out here to this old and disused train yard was beyond him but he figured that Bumblebee would have a good reason for bringing him out here. He had always had a good reason.

The Chevrolet Camaro left a plume of dirt in its wake as it sped into the yard. All Sam had to do was sit back and let Bumblebee drive, thus giving Sam time to think. He had arrived in town today with the intention of actually seeing his parents and his girlfriend, only to find that his parents weren't in town and that something important enough to excite Bumblebee had come up. The thought occurred to Sam that it might be something to do with the other Autobots. Maybe they wanted his help in saving the world again? If so, Sam would have to kindly decline. He wasn't too excited about the prospect of getting shot at and thrown around by explosions again, even if the fate of the world might have been at stake.

The radio inside the car was on and tuned into some station that specialized in classic rock. The volume was up to a reasonable extent, blaring out tunes that were popular about fifteen years ago.

"_I got…TWO tickets to Paradise! Why don't ya…pack yer bags and leave tonight?!"_

Sam still had the tub of vanilla ice cream with him that he had snatched from the refrigerator back at the house. Now the ice cream had gone soft and was bordering on full meltdown in the Nevada heat. Sam managed a few more spoonfuls before he replaced the lid on the tub, feeling his stomach churn as it was faced with a potential ice cream overload. It had been a while since Sam had had a decent ice cream although with his stomach aching as it was now he figured he had had enough for today.

The car pulled to a stop near a discarded and graffiti covered grey freight container. Behind it was the rusted hulk of an abandoned car and a line of train tracks that were overgrown with weeds. Some rusting old train carriages were parked on the tracks, forming a sort of little area amongst the carriages and containers.

Sam frowned. He couldn't see much here but he knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. There was always something more to what one could see and it took him a moment to locate the shiny silver and blue car parked in the little space amongst the containers and rusting train carriages.

"_This is the place,"_ Bumblebee said (using some sound-byte from a movie), the radio cutting off abruptly.

"Yeah, well…what is it that's here?" Sam asked, frowning, "there's just a bunch of old train cars…"

"_He's been following us for the last five miles,"_ Bumblebee said, using a quote from a James Bond movie (with Roger Moore) that Sam could barely remember watching. Hearing this he took a look behind and through the rear window, watching as a red sports car (it looked to be some sort of Ferrari or Lamborghini, he couldn't tell at this distance) drove into view behind them and came to a stop a few metres away.

Sam realized now that he had been brought to some sort of gathering, he just wasn't sure why. He had barely noticed the red sports car that had followed them here (that showed just how much attention he paid to his surroundings) since he had been trying to work out just what to expect when Bumblebee had reached their destination.

"Who's that?" Sam asked. Bumblebee replied using another sound-bite from somewhere, Sam could hardly be sure of where.

"_The boss's son,"_ Bumblebee replied, the voice in the audio clip blunt and stern.

Sam frowned again, trying to work out just what was going on. "The boss's son"? What was that supposed to mean? He didn't get much more of a chance to think abut it since the driver's side door opened, providing an obvious hint that he should get out.

Sam climbed out of the Camaro, carrying the tub of ice cream with him. He felt like an idiot walking around with it so he placed it on the gravel near his feet, now able to feel the heat of the Nevada sun in its full glory. The heat reflected off of the mostly gravel ground in the yard and thus made the air itself quite hot. Sam could already feel some sweat forming at his brow, leading him to wonder when the rain clouds on the horizon would be over town.

Behind him Bumblebee changed form, unpacking himself from his Camaro mode and allowing himself to stand tall in the yard in his full robot mode. He was shorter than the other Autobots but was perhaps the most nimble. He was mostly yellow, the car doors at his shoulders and chest while the wheels of his car form were at the sides of his legs. His bright blue eyes were perhaps the most striking feature of him, containing some sort of inner humanity that Sam had grown to like over the last few years.

"The boss's son?" Sam frowned, turning to look at the red sports car parked a short distance away. He could see even through the slightly tinted windows that there was no one seated inside, certifying that fact that the car was definitely Cybertronian. It took Sam a moment to figure out just what "boss" Bumblebee had been referring to.

Sam turned around, raising an eyebrow as the ramifications began to hit home. Bumblebee had dragged him out here just to see some other Autobot? There would have to have been more to why then just that, Sam was sure of it. Maybe this had been why Bumblebee hadn't been home when Sam had first arrived since the Autobot may have been spending time with his fellow Cybertronian. Of course, this still left plenty of unanswered questions in Sam's mind and they were already beginning to annoy him, nibbling away at his mind like mice did to cheese.

Bumblebee stood looking innocent enough, noticing Sam's uncertainty. At that moment the silver Pontiac that Sam had noticed earlier drove out from behind the nearby graffiti covered container, coming to a halt near Bumblebee.

_Another one? What was this, a town meeting?_ Sam was still trying to work out just what was going on although by now he had figured that it was important. Bumblebee wouldn't have dragged him out here just to see some friends of his but Sam had been thinking this was the case up until now.

"What boss? As in, Optimus? Optimus Prime's son?" Sam tried to wrap his head around this fact, finding it hard to believe. Sure, these Autobots could have brothers (Skids and Mudflap being to ones who sprang to mind immediately) and sisters (Chromia and Firestar) but sons? As in, children? How did these robots make kids anyway? How the hell did that work? A few unappealing images popped into Sam's mind at this instant and he quickly shut them out.

_I really don't need to think about that sort of thing right now,_ he thought. He looked up at Bumblebee, finding that the Autobot seemed to have found his confusion amusing. This was evident in the chuckle he delivered using an audio clip from yet another movie: it was a loud, hearty good-feeling chuckle and Sam could only smile in response.

"Could someone care to tell me what's going on?" Sam asked, looking at the silver Pontiac and then the red sports car.

The silver Pontiac was the one who responded, first by changing into his full robot form. He stood slightly taller than Bumblebee, the front grill of the Pontiac taking up his chest. A wheel was at each shoulder and another at each side of his waist. He was mostly a blue and silver colour, his shiny paintwork glistening in the midday sun. Sam wasn't familiar with this Autobot but he had seen the spectacle of them changing enough times to not be too wowed by it anymore.

"Are you Sam Witwicky?" The Autobot asked, his voice with a distinct African-American sounding tone. He was almost like Jazz, but not quite. Sam wouldn't be surprised if this Autobot had been related to Jazz in some way.

"Yeah, I am," Sam replied, frowning again, "I'm assuming you need my help, since you Autobots are always pulling me out of my normal life for something important, usually to do with the fate of the human race. Let me tell you that right now, I'm not interested…"

"My name is Smokescreen," the Autobot said, "I was sent here with Depthcharge, a friend of mine, in order to gather reconnaissance on both Megatron and Starscream…"

Sam felt his heart skip a beat. Megatron and Starscream? What, were they here? He suddenly felt very vulnerable. The last time Megatron and Starscream had paid him visit they had wanted to remove his brain. Luckily the Autobots had showed up in time in order to prevent this unfortunate occurrence from happening. It still worried Sam to think that both of them were still alive…

"What, are they here?" Sam asked, trying to keep his voice level. The only reason he could think of about why they had come to Tranquility was because they were after him. It wouldn't have taken much for them to find him.

Smokescreen nodded, his metallic blue eyes portraying some concern. Still, there were plenty of questions begging at Sam's mind. It occurred to him that he had arrived at an awfully convenient time: within an hour of returning to Tranquility and he was already in some sort of danger. For one and a half years he had managed to live a normal enough life, being forced to recover from his experiences in the battle at Egypt. There he had been shot at, knocked around by explosions…he had almost died for Christ's sake. Actually, he _had_ died. Yet he had come back somehow, he wasn't sure how but he guessed it had to do with those ancient robots who had greeted him in the afterlife…

"Depthcharge and I made contact with Bumblebee earlier this morning. All three of us were genuinely surprised to discover another Autobot in town, one who had some idea of why Megatron and Starscream were here," Smokescreen explained, "originally we had suspected that the pair were out to enact revenge on you but this was before we met Deadeye."

Deadeye? Sam frowned. These Autobots gave themselves such colourful names sometimes. He turned to the red sports car just as it began to change form, unfolding itself from its car mode within seconds. Standing a few feet taller than Smokescreen was a mostly red Autobot, one who had a face that reminded Sam of…Optimus Prime. The resemblance was there, right down to the bright blue eyes.

"Deadeye, huh?" Sam took a look at the Prime's descendant, still trying to work out how robots having kids worked. He was also still confused as to why Bumblebee had brought him out here but he had a feeling that the reason was coming soon enough.

"Yeah, I'm Deadeye," the red Autobot replied. He removed what looked to be a large sidearm from a compartment at his waist, gripping it in his right hand as he twirled it around gunslinger-style. Sam now had a feeling he knew why this Autobot called himself Deadeye.

"Are you really Optimus' son?" Sam asked, curious, "and if you are, how does that work? The, you know…robots having kids…I don't know how that could possibly work out."

Deadeye gave the robotic equivalent of a sigh. The questions seemed to have stirred up some painful memories in the young Autobot and Sam immediately felt guilty. Then again, he had only been curious…

"I'm his son alright," Deadeye replied. His voice had a distinct British twang, one that sounded like the sort that the British soldiers in the World War Two movies Sam had seen had.

"If you're his son, wouldn't that make you a Prime?" Sam asked, realizing this. Optimus was apparently the only Prime left yet if he had a son obviously the whole Prime thing would be passed on…yet Sam could see nothing "Prime" about Deadeye.

Deadeye seemed to frown with his metallic features upon hearing this. He stopped spinning his sidearm around in his hand like a cowboy from an old Western movie and peered down at Sam, thinking about his answer for a long time. Sam could tell that this Autobot had probably been through a lot and yet something told him that Deadeye was the youngest Autobot here, perhaps even younger than Bumblebee.

"Not necessarily," Deadeye replied, "the Matrix of Leadership is required for a Prime to pass on his leadership skills and knowledge to his descendants. Besides, my father's still alive from what I've heard. I have no reason to be a Prime. The whole leadership thing doesn't really…you know…appeal to me very much."

Sam could see that Deadeye was serious about this. It was as if he wasn't too fond of his father just in the way his voice went low and distant whenever he mentioned him. Robots with parent issues? Well, that was something Sam had personally never encountered before. He guessed he still knew very little about this race of alien robots that he had been friends with for three years.

_You learn something new every day,_ he thought but cringed when he remembered how much of a cliché it was.

"You see, Deadeye was presumed dead many of your Earth years ago after a failed attack to arrest or eliminate the Decepticon war criminal known as Centurion," Smokescreen said. Sam turned around to look towards this Autobot, his mind brimming with unanswered questions.

"Centurion?" Sam immediately reached the conclusion that whoever this Decepticon was, he was a bad-ass. He even had the name to go with it, just like "Megatron" and "Starscream".

"He was a rival of Megatron during the war on Cybertron," Smokescreen answered, his gaze distant as he memories of the war that had almost cost them their entire race began to flow back into his mind. Sam could tell that most of these Autobots had mental scars left from this devastating war, the war that had been transferred to Earth but in a somewhat smaller scale.

"Optimus, Ironhide and Deadeye went to try and capture him, or at the very least kill him," Smokescreen continued, "however, something happened and Centurion disappeared in some sort of displacement field…along with Deadeye…"

"And I ended up on this planet during some sort of war you humans were having at the time," Deadeye finished. Sam turned around to face him again, feeling that he was already close to simply leaving these Autobots to their own devices.

Sam wasn't really interested in being dragged into this whole "save the world" business again. Part of him wanted to walk away and leave this all behind him so he could get on with a normal life. Another part of him wanted him to stay and see it through: he owed the Autobots that much. Bumblebee was involved and he was a friend and friends helped each other out whenever they needed it. Sam wasn't just about to turn his back on the Autobots now since if he did that he would be turning his back on a friend that he had been with through thick and thin, a friend that had aided him in return when he had needed it most. No, Sam would stay and see what this was all about even if he felt threatened by the return of Starscream and Megatron. He figured that it was probably in his best interests to see this through.

"It was the year you humans called '1944'," Deadeye continued, "I ended up in a place called 'Holland'. It seemed that the displacement field had been some sort of teleportation field, one that had taken both myself and Centurion to Earth…"

"Centurion's dead, right?" Sam asked, frowning. The last thing he needed to have to worry about was another powerful Decepticon on the loose.

"That's why I'm here, Sam," Deadeye replied, his tone growing ever more serious. "Centurion and I only just woke up a few days ago since I…well, I had overloaded the device that gave him the ability to teleport and thus we were both sent into hibernation…until now. According to Smokescreen he's on Earth somewhere, looking for something…I don't know what but I do know that it has something to do with a being called 'Unicron'…"

Sam was having trouble seeing how this had anything to do with him. Still, he remained standing where he was in the yard, listening to what the Autobots had to say. He assumed that Optimus would be quite pleased to hear that his son was well and alive although judging from the way Deadeye was talking about his father, he doubted that the young Autobot was on very good terms with Optimus.

Centurion was here on Earth? Sam didn't know what to think about this little development. He had no idea on just how evil Centurion was but the way the Autobots were talking about him made him sound dangerous, perhaps even more so than Megatron. This unnerved Sam a fair bit since it meant that not only were both Megatron and Starscream on Earth (and in Tranquility apparently) but there was a bad-ass Decepticon called Centurion on the loose as well. Something told him that the other Autobots were in the process of tracking Centurion down, hence their absence from this gathering. That was probably why Smokescreen was here since Smokescreen seemed to be one of the less notable Autobots, one that had only arrived recently since Sam hadn't known of his existence until now.

"Unicron?" Sam asked, unsure of what this name meant, "who's that? Another Decepticon?"

Bumblebee was the one to reply, using what sounded like an audio clip of a crazy African-American radio preacher to get his point across.

"_The Chaos Bringer…the Dark One…the Beast…for he is waiting for his chance to return to this Earth and with him the rest of Hell will follow!"_

This only added to Sam's uneasiness. The way Bumblebee was putting it he was making this "Unicron" figure sound like some sort of demon…

Sam had never been the religious type. He wasn't an atheist but he wasn't a believer either, simply living his life the way he wanted to without having to worry about some divine entity that had created them and looked down upon them all from Heaven or wherever…

"None of us know much about him," Smokescreen said, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "but we do know that he is old…very old. Perhaps older than this Earth. It is our belief that whoever Unicron is, Centurion wants to bring him back from wherever he is. It is our general assumption that Unicron is in a similar inter-dimensional prison as the Fallen was. Megatron released the Fallen, but obviously Unicron is still imprisoned. Whatever Centurion intends on doing, we have to stop him."

Sam took a step back from the three serious robot faces that gazed at him. This was absurd. Sure, it had started off plausible enough…ever since he had met the Autobots for the first time back in 2007 he had become more open-minded…but now, with this talk of some Satan-like "Chaos Bringer" named Unicron he had been officially put off helping the Autobots. Fighting demons was just another thing Sam hadn't been trained for.

"The device that gave Centurion his powerful abilities was in my possession until a few days ago," Deadeye said, "I ended up losing it when I was captured by some hostile humans. I think that this device is vital to Centurion's plan and that he will no doubt want it back. It is, after all, what I used to cause us both to be sent several decades into the future…"

"Yeah, well, you three just go off and do that," Sam said uneasily. He had ceased listening to Deadeye about halfway through what he had said, missing the hint that time travel had taken place. "I…I will be, uh…waiting at home. Yeah, that's where I'll be. I'll be living a normal life rather than saving the world like I've had to twice in the past. I'm sure you three will be alright fighting Centurion…"

Sam was about to turn around and walk away, once again turning his back on the Autobots as he had done so when Optimus and the others had confronted him in a cemetery last year. Both Bumblebee and Deadeye looked on with some disappointment but didn't say anything, knowing full well that they couldn't really do much about Sam not wanting to help.

"Sam," Smokescreen said, his tone solemn, "Ironhide's dead. He was killed by Centurion."

Sam stopped suddenly, the words taking a moment to register within his brain. Ironhide was dead? What? But Ironhide, wasn't he like the strongest Autobot out of all of them? He was the weapons specialist; he always knew how to handle himself in a combat situation. Ironhide was perhaps one of the most competent of the Autobots, always taking things seriously but always keen to show off his cannons to anyone who cared enough to see them.

Sam turned around, swallowing. He wasn't about to cry about it but he did feel as if some sort of switch in his mind had flicked, the one that had been controlling whether or not he wanted to get involved.

"He's dead?"

Smokescreen nodded. Bumblebee looked sullen while Deadeye hadn't changed, simply standing where he was and shaking his head.

"We need to stop Centurion," Deadeye announced, breaking the silence that had fallen across the group. "I believe I have detected his special device in this very town and I believe that this is the reason why both Megatron and Starscream have come here. They're looking for it which implies that they are in league with Centurion. This isn't good news…far from it, in fact."

Sam felt as if all of this information was coming at him too fast. He shook his head, trying to shake off the fear and the confusion and the anger he felt. Ironhide was dead…if that was the case then it would probably be best if he did help. If Centurion was capable of killing Ironhide then it made sense that he was also capable of killing any of the other Autobots, Optimus included.

"You'll be able to get the device, Sam," Smokescreen said, "we think it's in the possession of a human in the north-end of Tranquility. We can't simply just barge in and take it…but you, Sam, will be able to get it without much trouble. Depthcharge is currently keeping watch on the human right now…"

"Look, I…I…Well, I…" Sam struggled to form a sentence. He could feel the pressure of the situation bearing down on him like a tonne worth of weight. Would he accept this seemingly simple task? He didn't want to get involved yet at the same time he did. It was a dilemma he was having trouble solving although he did want to see Ironhide's killer receive retribution. No doubt Centurion was powerful since he had managed to kill Ironhide and was still on the loose.

"You only have to get the device, Sam," Deadeye said, "and then you can return to your home and do what you want. We just need your help Sam, just this once…"

"Once that's done Deadeye can go and meet his father since Optimus still thinks he's dead," Smokescreen added, "it'll be a touching reunion, no doubt."

Deadeye frowned at Smokescreen but otherwise didn't say anything.

Would Sam do it or not? It sounded simple enough…just one little task, one that would probably be a lot easier than the last two times he had been dragged into this whole "saving the world" business. He owed his Autobot friends this much and the way Bumblebee was looking at him now with the expectant gaze…well, how could Sam refuse helping his friends out? Especially if they had just suffered the loss of a close friend. Sam would probably feel the brunt of the news later on when his mind was more at ease but now all he could do was swallow and keep a level tone of voice and straight face to match.

Sam had been about to reply and say that he would get them this "device" or whatever it was when he heard shouting from some distance behind him. He turned around as did the three Autobots standing around him and was suitably surprised to see some young twenty-something year old African-American man on a bicycle cycling towards them. He seemed tired and was shouting incoherently, the occasional swear word being thrown into the mix.

Whoever this guy was he managed to bring himself to a halt about ten metres away. His gaze went up to the three Autobots and his eyes went wide with fright. Sam could only smile as the African-American man fell off his bike from surprise, landing on the gravel and grazing one elbow. He swore loudly, looking towards Sam with a wide and frightened gaze.

"Where's my car?" The man managed to ask.

Sam assumed he was talking about Deadeye and so nodded towards that particular Autobot. Whoever this man was he had been the obvious "owner" of Deadeye.

The man nodded and then looked towards Deadeye who then looked at him in return. Seconds later the African-American man fainted, this discovery simply being too much for him to handle. The sullen mood that had fallen upon the meeting had brightened up only a little and Sam realized that he was smiling, despite the fact that this man obviously knew about the existence of the Autobots now. Sam was sure he could convince him that it was some sort of hallucination but he realized that there wasn't any point in doing this.

"Who's he?" Smokescreen asked, the robotic equivalent of a frown on his face.

"My owner," Deadeye replied.


	35. The Church

**The Church  
**Tranquility, Nevada  
December 16th, 2010

The northern outskirts of Tranquility, Nevada was perhaps one of the less well-off parts of town. Most of the houses here were small and decades old, their gardens overgrown and their weatherboards slowly decaying. Paintwork was patchy on most of the older houses, giving these older homes the look that they hadn't been as well maintained as the more modern homes further into town. The majority of the inhabitants of this part of town were working class and pensioners, hence the reason why some could not afford to keep their homes looking clean and inviting. The front lawns of most homes were long and overgrown while the wooden fences between houses were rotting in places, some planks had even managed to fall off over the years and thus leave gaps in the fence.

There was one particular street that was lined with several older houses, most with overgrown front lawns and flaky aging paintwork. A boarded up corner store was at the end of the street, having last seen business about a decade ago. The strips of lawn that were near the sidewalk were littered with discarded items such as old rusted microwaves and television sets, as well as an old bicycle or two thrown in for good measure. The road itself had more than enough potholes to be deemed a "road safety hazard". Even so, the state of this section of town had been complained about to the town council many times yet little had been done to fix the roads and clean up the streets. Some would say that the Tranquility City Council simply didn't care…and they would be right about that.

On this particular street was an old church, built of grey brickwork that had seen plenty of weathering over the decades that had passed since its construction. It was the sort of church where one could go and pray to God and have the priest there talk about Jesus and other figures from the Bible yet it was the type of church where it wasn't entirely focused on one religion. Catholicism, Christianity…it was neither of these yet it was both. The sign out the front of the rundown church had once said "TRANQUILITY UNITING CHURCH" yet that sign's paintwork was flaking off in places and thus only parts of these words remained. The front doors were large and wooden yet creaked loudly on rusted hinges, as if they were on the verge of simply falling right out of place. That was a very real possibility when it came to this old church.

The front gardens had been well maintained unlike the other gardens on the street. The lawn had only been mowed yesterday morning while the flower beds had been cleared up of invading weeds and watered shortly afterwards. It gave the old church some sort of antiquated appeal, giving what could be considered an unsafe building a somewhat inviting look to a normal citizen.

Beyond the wooden double doors of the church was a well cleaned interior lined with wooden seats that faced towards the main altar. A large wooden cross hung on the back wall and a few stained glass windows were on either side, displaying typical imagery of Biblical figures such as the Virgin Mary. A table sat upon the main altar and a trio of candles burned brightly, wax dribbling down their sides. An opened hardcover Bible lay on the podium, an indication that there had recently been a gathering in the old church.

The inside of the church smelt old and dusty yet it was fairly clean and well looked after. The carpet that lined the centre aisle had recently been vacuumed while the windows on the sides of the church that looked out onto the gardens and the nearby cemetery had been washed just this morning. The offerings basket lay on one of the seats, filled with some loose change and little else. A potted fern was positioned in one corner, providing some much needed green to the stale interior of the old church.

To the left, tucked well away from the main prayer area was the confessionals booth. It hadn't seen much use lately and was currently locked, as were the front doors. The priest here, the very man who had spent most of his time as a priest running this small and rundown church, was preparing to leave. Not because he was going on holiday but because he had found something recently, something that a friend of his was interested in. In fact, they were both interested in the item in question even if neither of them knew what it was for.

Behind the altar and through a short hallway was where Father James Turner had his own private study. It was a room tucked well away from any prying eyes, being partially underground and at the very back end of the old church. The door of this private study lay open and all one had to do to enter was pass through the doorway and go down a short flight of steps, entering the cool but well-lit interior of James Turner's inner sanctum.

The walls were made of greying brickwork and had been painted over rather poorly many years previously. There was a single window near the ceiling at one side of the room that provided a rather bog-standard view of the lawn beyond. Currently that window was closed, bolted down to keep out the increasingly cold air outside. Within the last hour it had gotten dark as it had neared two o'clock in the afternoon. Rain clouds had gathered over Tranquility and thunder rumbled occasionally, signifying that rain was on its way. Where it had been hot this morning it was now quite cold and the air had a rainwater-like smell to it.

In one corner of the room was a wooden desk where a rather expensive computer had been set up months previously, having replaced James' somewhat older and out-of-date one that had been on the desk before it. On the same desk were several of the photos James had taken days before of the

(_Alien? Robot? Alien Robot?)_

James stopped what he was doing, giving this careful thought. He wasn't too sure just what it was, although "alien robot" might have been a fair enough guess.

Stuck on the wall to his left were layers and layers of newspaper clippings and printed internet articles, all to do with the apparent robots that had been sighted in different parts of the world over the last eight decades. James had only been around for fifty-two years and had spent since 1976 trying to find out the truth behind these apparent aliens, or alien robots that had been seen many times in Earth's history.

James was a well-built African-American man with a slight beard growing on and around his chin. On December 13th he had been tipped off to the possible location of a government facility where "something big" had apparently been going down. Seizing the opportunity James had driven all the way out to New Mexico with his camera and had been startled to discover that the tip-off had been right. There had been some sort of secret facility under a ghost town and James had managed to infiltrate it, finding that Colonel Francis Weller had been in the process of interrogating an alien robot prisoner.

A rather rash decision had been made on James' part, one that he was already regretting. The large alien robot had had in its possession some sort of cylindrical device with pointed ends, etched with alien symbols and with glowing ridges upon it. James had taken this device if only to satisfy his curiosity and ensure that he had some sort of souvenir of his visit to the secret facility.

Now that device lay on his bed just off to his left, partially wrapped in an old blanket. It seemed to be glowing with more ferocity than in previous days and this had gotten the normally calm-headed priest worried. The artefact had become hot to the touch (hence the need for the blanket around it) and seemed to be emitting a fair amount of radiation if the old Geiger counter he had in his possession was to be believed. Of course, it was still emitting _safe_ levels of radiation just somewhat more than what other everyday items (such as microwaves and laptop computers) emitted. If it had been emitting dangerous levels of radiation then James would have stored the device down in his cellar in a lead-lined container and forgotten about it. Getting made infertile or developing cancer thanks to radiation was something he was hoping to avoid.

Laid out on the bed in front of his was an open suitcase. He had begun to fold up some extra changes of clothes and was busy packing them away. Currently he was dressed in his black priest's outfit with the white collar, his broad shoulders made even broader by the pads in the jacket. Today only a few of the regular people had showed up at church. James had been treated to yet another uneventful day in the life of a priest and s had been looking forward to now.

Elderly Ms. Stern had come in early in the morning asking for some guidance since her brother was in hospital after a heart attack and she was quite stressed about it. Ms. Stern was the type of little old lady that worried about everything (no matter how minor) and never knew when to shut up. James had listened to her mostly incoherent ramblings about her brother, her home and her financial troubles and had simply delivered his usual advice. It was the most standard thing he could have said yet it got her to leave him alone every time.

"_Don't worry, I'm sure God's grace will guide you through these troublesome times of yours. He always does, doesn't He?"_

James rolled his eyes, remembering these words and realizing just how damn unimaginative they were. He remembered a time about twenty years ago when he could always get a full crowd for his services and was always capable of delivering excellent advice for everyone who came to seek his help. Now barely anyone showed up for his services since most people in this town seemed uninterested in religion. These days it was all about science, about how the universe had been created in the "Big Bang" and not by some divine being.

James didn't know what to believe in. Lately he had been keeping an open mind, especially after the things he had seen. He knew of the existence of alien robots yet he knew that anyone he told would simply scoff and assume he was crazy. In fact he was already gaining a reputation in town for being that "crazy old priest in the rundown church". James had paid no attention to what other people thought of him, preferring to keep his mind on his own business and take whatever position in town people were willing to give him. "Crazy old priest in the rundown church" was obviously his new town position and if that was the case he would take that position with pride.

A few people had shown up for confessionals and had delivered fairly bog-standard stuff. The twenty-something year old street punk Lucas Dysmond had probably given the most notable confession, saying how he had snatched a bag off of an old lady before stealing some wealthy guy's Mercedes. And so James had gone through the routine of getting God to forgive these people of their somewhat minor sins even though James had no sincerity when he told them this. He was a priest and people would believe him when it came to what God wanted them to do and whether or not He would forgive them for their sins.

If James had ever felt some sort of connection with some sort of divine being then that connection was gone now. It had gone back in 2007 when James had been in Mission City, on the trail of a tip-off about some sort of big military operation concerning those alien robots. James had watched the battle that had ensued between the military and some of these robots and these memories had stayed with him ever since…why so many other eyewitnesses had forgotten about them struck him as just plain strange. Were people nowadays such idiots? The government had covered the whole thing up using the cover story that prototype attack robots had gone on the rampage from a nearby military base. James knew that this was a load of bull yet so many people who had witnessed the fighting took this cover story as fact.

James stepped over to his desk, nudging his computer's mouse in order to get off of the screensaver. He was met by the home page of his own website (.com) and checked the comments boards on the pages where his last lot of photos had been uploaded. So far he had gotten a hell of a lot of hits for a minor website such as his own and sooner or later some government types would come knocking at his door and asking him where he had gotten such evidence. James intended to be out of Tranquility before that happened.

The photos of the captive alien robot were there, every one of them. As well as those he had taken several of the alien artefact and had posted them as well, writing up the necessary information to go with them. He had infiltrated the government facility and had found Colonel Francis Weller in the process of reviving and interrogating a captured alien robot. Thus, James had taken the initiative and helped to free the alien as well as taking off with the alien artefact.

He wasn't surprised to find one particular username on the message boards: RoboWarrior. It had been RoboWarrior who had given him the tip-off as well as several others in the past. It had been this particular tip-off that had proved to be the most rewarding…and the most dangerous. James was packing his bags and preparing to leave to meet this RoboWarrior guy face-to-face. According to the address he had been given it seemed that RoboWarrior lived in Las Vegas and thus this would be precisely where James would go. He could afford to take some time off his job as a priest…not that much happened in his job in this particular church.

James had encountered Colonel Francis Weller before. According to RoboWarrior, Colonel Weller had once worked in an organization called "Sector Seven". Sector Seven had been disbanded after the battle in Mission City and thus the Colonel had lost his job. However, the recent new evidence as well as James' encounter with Weller in Shanghai last year implied that the Colonel had found a new job much in the same vein as his last one. RoboWarrior had seemed especially worried (from what James could tell from the man's voice over the phone) and had increased his level of investigation into Weller's activities through the many contacts RoboWarrior had in the government. That was what had gotten him the information about the underground facility in New Mexico.

The priest had always been worried that one day Weller and some of his goons would rock up to his front doorstep and blow him away. They could do that since they probably worked in some secret organization that operated outside the law (as Sector Seven had done so). They could do whatever they wanted and they could get away with it. James had since developed some paranoia over the last few years and had recalled his years in the National Guard, ordering some "protection" for himself via the internet.

James pulled open a drawer at his desk and removed the silver Beretta Cougar stored inside. He slid back the slider and let it click back into place, ejecting the magazine currently loaded in the weapon in order to check it. The magazine was fully loaded with .45 rounds. James had never fired this weapon since he had never needed to…the government goons he had envisioned arriving here and blowing him away had never come and thus they had never blown him away. Still, the fear was in his mind and it wouldn't leave.

He put the magazine back into the Beretta Cougar and put the pistol into the holster that had been in the desk with it. He put the pistol and holster into his suitcase with his changes of clothes, hoping that it would never come to him having to use it. He doubted he could ever actually shoot someone, even if he needed to. He did visit the local gun club every now and then if only to polish up his shooting skills…the very skills he hoped he would never have to use.

There was the much older Colt 1911 pistol that James' father had given to him as sixteenth birthday present. That weapon was lying on the desk, its silver frame shining in the light of the lamp nearby. James picked up that pistol and slipped it into the holster at his waist, letting the bottom of his jacket fall over it in order to hide it from view. A priest carrying a gun would most certainly raise a few eyebrows and besides, if James did encounter trouble he would prefer to let his enemies think he was unarmed until he finally did gather up the guts to pull out his gun and let his enemies have it.

He could remember the night of August 23rd, 1976 where he and his father had gone out on a camping trip. They had lived in Oregon at the time and had camped in a fairly tranquil section of forest by a lake. It had been during the night that the alien had arrived, crashing down into an area nearby like a meteorite before it had gone on to attack a military base nearby. He and his father had watched as the giant alien metal monstrosity had laid waste to an entire military base, using weapons that had been primarily fire based. It had laughed a deep and inhuman laugh, one that had chilled James to the bone. Then the alien had left somewhat dissatisfied, as if it had been looking for something but hadn't found it. The destruction of the military base was covered up in typical government style.

The thought occurred to him: what if the artefact he now had in his possession was attracting more of the aliens to him? The transparent lines on it were glowing a bright blue-white while the very air around the device had gotten warm. James stepped back over to the bed and put a hand towards the artefact, feeling that it was still quite hot but not enough to hurt him. He hoisted the lightweight device up, keeping it partially wrapped in the old blanket as he stuffed it into his suitcase with his other belongings. RoboWarrior wanted to see it and now doubt he would have some idea of just what it did. James currently had not a single clue as to the purpose of the device except for the speculation that it was maybe a power generator of some sort.

With the artefact in the suitcase James closed it, closing the latches into place. It was getting to ten minutes past two in the afternoon and if James left now he could get to Las Vegas by six o'clock, maybe even earlier if traffic out on the desert highways wasn't much.

Las Vegas, being full of casinos and such as well as having the reputation that it did was enough of a reason to make James want to bring some extra cash with him. He had stuffed a fair bit of cash into his wallet and had then stuffed that wallet into his left trouser pocket, feeling the bulge that it created. He figured he could visit a casino or two during his time in Vegas, perhaps play some blackjack and roulette.

He grabbed the handle on the suitcase with one hand, feeling that it was quite heavy for simple luggage. Outside his battered old Camaro awaited him as well as the coming rain. Already it had begun to spit down here and there, this being the precursor to a much harder downpour.

He remembered that there was a very good reason he had gotten the Camaro a few years back. He didn't get much of a chance to elaborate on it since he heard the rumble of an engine come from outside. Immediately the grim fantasy of him being gunned down by Colonel Weller's goons played in his mind again. Instinctively James brought out his Colt pistol, putting down his suitcase and starting up the short flight of steps that lead out of his private sanctum.

The hallway outside was cool, a draft billowing in through an open window down the hall. He had locked the front doors earlier so whoever was out there would have to knock first. Even so, he could see himself opening the doors only to see Colonel Weller standing there, Magnum revolver raised.

_Stop freaking yourself out,_ he told himself, _You're becoming more paranoid by the minute._

He started down the hall, opening a door and entering the main hall beyond. Thunder rumbled loudly from outside and the candles on the table nearby rattled where they stood. Rain began pelting hard against the windows as the downpour began, scaring people back into their homes and giving drivers a reason to put their windscreen wipers on at a constant rate.

_Maybe it's just old Ms. Stern again, complaining about something else._

The numerous possibilities played out in James' mind as he approached the front double doors. There hadn't been a knock yet which could mean that whoever had arrived was either taking their time or weren't here to enter the church. There was a cemetery nearby and it was possible that whoever had just arrived had come to pay their respects for some close friend or relative.

He walked over to one of the front windows, pushing aside the curtains there partially in order to give himself a view of the outside. It was raining at a steady rate that fluctuated between normal shower and heavy downpour every now and then. The road outside was already slicked with water and puddles had already started forming out the front of the church. No doubt the front steps would be slippery, making them a potential hazard for anyone who came up them.

Parked at the side of the road right at the front of the church was an expensive looking yellow Camaro with a pair of thick black racing stripes painted on the hood. The windows were tinted disallowing a look at whoever was inside. James relaxed and put away his Colt pistol, hiding it under his jacket so as to not scare off whoever was in the car. They seemed to be sitting there, not doing anything. Perhaps they were lost? He had no way of knowing. What struck him odd was how someone who could afford a car like that was out here wasting their time in this area of the town. Usually the richer folks lived further in and not out on the outskirts.

James remained standing at the window, peering out at the front of the church as the rain fell. The gutters were already filling with a flowing miniature stream, one that had currents that carried the water right down the street and into the drain further down. He kept his eye on the yellow Camaro, his mind still not quite at rest from the paranoid ideas he was having. If Colonel Weller had wanted him dead he would have done it by now. James had already proven himself to be a bit of a nuisance to the Colonel.

Whoever these people were they were taking their time. James wouldn't be surprised if the car just started up again and left. They were probably just lost, referring to a map or something. Still, James watched. He kept his gaze on the car and tried fairly hard to make out the occupants from this distance through the car's tinted window. It was a futile gesture though.

* * *

"This is the place, huh Bee?"

"_Damn right it is."_

Sam Witwicky sat back in the driver's seat, sighing. Outside it had begun to rain quite heavily, the rain clouds he had noticed earlier having moved in right over this part of Tranquility. Soon enough there would be an all out storm but right now it was only a steady shower. Thunder rumbled occasionally, hinting at the rough weather that was to come. Part of him wanted to leave while the other wanted to find out just why Centurion's device was out here in the poorer section of town. Why it was at this old church was beyond him.

Sitting in the passenger seat was Jones Marshall, eyes wide. He had been silent the whole trip, milling over all that Sam had told him. He had inadvertently stumbled upon the existence of the Autobots since his car had in fact been Deadeye. He had followed Deadeye out to the train yard on a bicycle, arriving to find the Smokescreen, Bumblebee and Deadeye talking with Sam. Jones had fainted at the time but had come to a few minutes later, rambling about how a friend of his had been right about the government conspiracies.

Sam had told him the basics: there was a race of alien robots on Earth that could change into vehicles and Sam was one of their closest allies on the planet. He had managed to avoid telling Jones the whole story, especially avoiding anything to do with the evil robots that had a habit of trying to destroy humanity. Jones had agreed to tag along if only because Deadeye had convinced him to do so, saying that Sam may need help in this task. Sam doubted retrieving Centurion's device could be _that_ difficult but it did feel good to have a fellow human around who actually knew about the Autobots. Jones had vowed to keep it a secret yet he seemed to be having trouble believing it himself. He had sat in the passenger seat the whole trip, still incredulous towards the fact that they were seated within Bumblebee who had been in robot mode only a short time ago.

"_How do they change their shape?"_ Jones had asked back at the train yard.

Sam had simply shrugged, smiling as he replied.

"_I don't know exactly…but it helps them keep a low profile, you know? Very few people know of their existence and I think that's for the best. You have to promise not to tell anyone, alright? This is just between you and me."_

Jones sat in the passenger seat now, twiddling his thumbs as the rain pelted onto the windshield. To their left was the front of the old church, its front steps slicked with water. The large wooden double doors were closed in order to keep out the elements. No lights were on inside despite the darkness that had fallen upon the day thanks to the thick and dark grey rain clouds above. Maybe no one was home?

Sam doubted it. This was a church, after all: there was bound to be a priest inside or someone, anyone. What an alien device could be doing in a church was unknown to him, although Depthcharge had chimed in earlier saying that it seemed a human was in possession of the device. Somehow the priest here had gained possession of the device and according to Depthcharge it seemed that he had done very little with it except store it away and leave it alone.

Sam wasn't keen on getting anymore involved in this than he already was. All the talk earlier about Centurion and Unicron (two robots that Sam hoped he would never meet) had made the young man nervous. It sounded as if this whole Autobots vs. Decepticons war was starting up again which would mean that somehow, usually inadvertently he would be dragged into it. He had the first time around because his car had turned out to be Bumblebee. He had the second time around since the map to the energon harvester on Earth had been downloaded into his brain by accident. Now this time it seemed a very different chain of events had caused it and were somewhat more straightforward.

He had decided that all he would do was get the device, give it to the Autobots and then sever his connection with this war once and for all. He had a normal life to live; he wasn't some sort of war hero. He had never even considered the notion that he might become one yet had ended up being a hero on two occasions. If he got into this war business anymore than he already was then he might find it hard to get back out again. Once you're in you can't get out and must see it through to the end. At least, this was the thought running through his mind now.

He looked at Jones.

"Hey, Jonesy, you coming in with me or what?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jones looked at him, frowned and shook his head.

"No way man," Jones replied, his voice laced with anxiety, "I'm staying out here. I don't feel like getting involved anymore than I have. I mean, when I won that car I didn't think it was a damn alien robot! Who would have thought of _that_?"

Sam shrugged, realizing that he knew how Jones felt. The ramifications of finding out your car was an alien robot could be far-reaching as they had proven to be in the past.

"I would have," Sam replied, "besides, I like to keep an open mind. You never know what might happen."

Jones didn't reply. Instead, he began fiddling with the radio as he flicked through stations. He seemed to find this quite fascinating.

"He's even got a radio!" Jones exclaimed.

Sam shook his head and opened his side's door. The cold air outside sent a shiver through him since he was only dressed in jeans and a short sleeve shirt. It had been warm this morning but now it seemed the weather had taken a turn for the gloomy.

Closing the door behind him Sam looked towards the old grey brick church. The grey colour of the church matched the colour of the rainclouds above. Last minute nerves flowed through him and Sam had the urge to go back in his car and leave.

_No, there's no point in that. I mean, what's so hard about getting some piece of alien space treasure?_

Sam started up the steps, taking the care to not slip on their watered surfaces. He stopped at the wooden double doors and knocked a few times, each knock reverberating loudly within the church but sounding quite faint outside. Freezing cold rain water soaked through his shirt and made him shiver some more as he stood waiting for the doors to open. He almost jumped back in fright when they did.

Standing in the doorway was a middle-aged African-American man in a typical black priest's outfit, his brown eyes narrowed as he surveyed Sam with an examining gaze. Sam felt as if he was being judged on the spot, as if this priest was trying to work him out. Was he a friend or a foe? Did Sam look like someone who was here to trash the place?

"Sorry, but I was closing up this particular house of God for today," The priest said, his voice somewhat lighter in tone than the look he was giving Sam, "I'll be back by Sunday though, so feel free to drop by and share a prayer then…"

"Oh…uh, well, I'm not really here about that sort of thing," Sam said, trying to find the right way to go about this. He felt like an idiot, standing out in the rain while talking to a priest.

The priest raised an eyebrow.

"What are you here for?" His tone was serious, questioning. It was as if he thought that Sam had his own hidden agenda. Sam decided to get on with why he was here, trying to work out why he had agreed to this in the first place.

"Do you have a, uh…well, it's some sort of artefact. Probably alien…Uh, well, it's important…Like, _really_ important I get it." Sam struggled to form a cohesive sentence, his tongue stumbling on the simplest of words.

The priest's gaze changed as he heard all of this. His expression loosened somewhat, as if he knew what Sam was referring to. There was no doubt in Sam's mind that the priest knew just what he was talking about.

"Who wants to know?" The priest asked.

"Oh…I'm Sam Witwicky," Sam said.

"James Turner," the priest replied. He took a look around, gazing towards Sam's car.

"That's a nice car you have there, son," James said, "how much was it?"

Sam was caught off-guard by the question. He ended up making a blatant lie and felt guilty about it immediately. After all, he did just lie to a priest. If it had been anybody _but_ a priest he wouldn't have felt guilty.

"I…uh…I won it," Sam lied, "in a raffle."

"That's lucky for you then," James replied. He paused for a moment before stepping to one side and gesturing to the hall beyond.

"Why don't you come in out of the rain, son?" He asked, "We can talk in private. Lately I've had that feeling that I'm being watched, you know? Usually I'd attribute it to God but…not this time."

Sam could tell that James was sincere in his invitation and there wasn't a single unnerving quality about the priest. After a moment's hesitation Sam stepped into the church, James closing the door behind him. The inside was cool but warmer than outside and it lacked the freezing cold rain which was an improvement.

"Do you ever feel like you're being watched?" James asked, turning to look at Sam as he stepped into the hall.  
Sam turned around and met the priest's wizened gaze. He felt like an idiot being here on some stupid errand for the Autobots but part of him wanted to see this through. No use turning back now, especially since the old priest had invited him in.

"All the time," Sam replied absently.

Depthcharge had been keeping watch on James which was all for the mission to recover Centurion's device. However, there had been two others keeping watch as they were after the same device. As Sam and James headed on down the hall the two malevolent watchers started making their move, both realizing that they had two targets in the one place: Centurion's device _and_ the boy. And this time the boy had little protection save for his guardian Bumblebee. However, one single Autobot would be no match for the combined might of Megatron and Starscream.


	36. Guidance

**Guidance  
**Somewhere under the New Mexico desert  
December 16th, 2010

"Once more, Professor," Colonel Francis Weller said, his eyes aflame with anger.

"But Colonel—"

Professor Kyle Vine was interrupted by a sudden and abrupt shout of rage from the Colonel, one that had more than enough anger and frustration in it to make the Professor fall silent. He had worked with such types of people before and was used to getting yelled at frequently. None of the military people he had worked for had ever understood the science that organizations such as Sector Seven worked with and thus were always impatient when it came to getting results on their latest project.

Vine wiped the sweat from his brow with one sleeve of his lab-coat, turning his attention back to the bank of computer screens and control panels in front of him. There were two other lab-coated scientists in the laboratory with them, working over a set of computers in the corner. This particular laboratory was located on an upper level of the underground facility under the town of Morgue, New Mexico. The lab's interior was shades of white and grey and perfectly sterilized in order to keep out elements which might have affected the experiments that took place within the lab.

On a metal bench in the centre of the laboratory was the Spear of Destiny, otherwise known as the "Holy Lance" or "Lance of Unicron". It was a mere golden-silver spearhead, one that was yet to display near magical abilities. In fact it had only been emitting small amounts of the strange energy that was undetectable by current technology, save for the device Colonel Weller had managed to construct in his spare time two nights ago. None of the legendary powers it was apparently capable of displaying had been discovered and so the spearhead lay in its spot on the bench, hooked up to all sorts of machinery with lengths of cable that twisted and coiled on the floors of the laboratory. It looked like a very haphazard experiment and indeed it was since Vine was only vaguely aware of what they were doing. He had simply followed Weller's lead since strangely enough the Colonel had seemed to know more than he did about it.

Earlier, when their attempts to tap into the apparent special powers of the Spear had failed Vine had brought forward the possibility that they had gotten the wrong Spear. Somewhat unsurprisingly Weller had simply yelled at him, saying that he was certain that this spear was the right one. His device had detected it and Weller was quite confident in the reliability of the device he had managed to construct to locate the Spear. Thus the device wasn't wrong and Vine was. Professor Vine had had little choice but to play along with the noticeably unstable Colonel, continuing on with their experiments as he tried all sorts of methods to try and tap into the Spear's apparent powers.

Weller had told him how to set up the basic gist of this experiment and the machinery and technology involved. According to him, the sudden know-it-all about Cybertronian technology the Spear needed to be "kick-started" by the user before its power could be unleashed. This meant trying to activate the faint spark of energy within, the one that had eluded detection for over two thousand years (for its earliest recorded existence went back to the first century AD).

Now Weller stood by, eyes wide with anger and incredible frustration as he saw that nothing they did was activating the Spear. Obviously he had thought that it would work and that they would be able to go around using the Spear to alter time or whatever it was supposed to do…Instead they had found that the Spear was nothing more than a piece of expensive junk, one that had no other use than to sit upon one's mantelpiece or in a display case. It _had_ been in a display case within the Hofburg Imperial Palace in Vienna up until yesterday and Weller and his team had had little trouble in breaking in and getting it. At least, the trouble hadn't arrived until they had been on their way out with the Spear.

Apparently Weller and his team had encountered some NEST soldiers, namely Major William Lennox and Master Sergeant Epps. Both men Lennox knew about and both he seemed to have a strong dislike for, referring to them as "glorified boyscouts". Most of the team had been killed in the ensuing firefight yet Weller and Captain Xander Farnell had managed to escape, taking the Spear with them. Having gone to all of that trouble just to get a piece of useless treasure was something that angered Weller immensely. What angered him even more was the fact that he knew that it was the right Spear and that the trouble had been worth it…they just had to find a way to get the dam thing working.

Weller wasn't at all concerned that they had finally been discovered by NEST. His mind was on other things for starters, such as the Spear and getting it to work. Another reason was that he didn't see NEST as much of a threat since they barely knew anything. There was the possibility that the NEST soldiers had captured one of Weller's team but even the thoughts of this soldier figuratively spilling his guts to NEST didn't concern the Colonel. It would have concerned any other sane leader but Colonel Weller wasn't sane. In fact, ever since his incident with the All-spark shard he had been spiralling further and further into a mentally unstable state. This was made evident by his sheer rage over their lack of progress and the fact that he was twirling that Magnum revolver of his around in one hand like some sort of Western movie gunslinger. He wasn't afraid to shoot anyone who pissed him off so Professor Vine had been careful to keep on the Colonel's good side.

Vine had worked with Sector Seven up until a skirmish in the desert with the Decepticon known as "Wreckage" that had occurred shortly after the battle in Mission City. Here Vine had almost been killed in an explosion when a few of Wreckage's rockets had landed near him but fortunately Vine had managed to get away relatively unscathed. He had been reported as officially "dead" since no trace of his body had been found. In actual fact Vine had fled, hearing of the disbandment of Sector Seven and realizing that his services were now on offer to the highest bidder. Now he was working for Weller in an organization that the Colonel had somewhat jokingly called "Sector Eight". Where Sector Seven had been a legitimate but top secret United States government-run organization, Sector Eight was a rogue organization that was funded by several powerful and wealthy people within the United States government. Weller had been placed in charge and had been in charge of Sector Eight since its official founding back in early 2008. Now it was an effective faction with access to some of the most advanced technology that this country had to offer, most of it having been reverse-engineered from Cybertronian technology.

During Vine's time in Sector Seven he had worked under a ruthless Sector Seven head honcho named Salazar. Salazar had gotten Vine to lead a project that had been started in order to create what had been called "LM Units" (which had been short for "Light Machine Units"). These were simply human-controlled robots on a similar scale as a typical Cybertronian, just without the shape-shifting abilities. Vine had made excellent progress on these LM Units and his project team had managed to construct several of them. The skirmish with Wreckage had left most of them destroyed and had almost killed Vine.

When Vine had first arrived in Sector Eight Weller had been quite interested in this LM Unit project and had gotten Vine started on it right away, sending him to work on it with a full team at Area 51. Reviving the previously lost research Vine's team had managed to construct several of the heavily armed and armoured LM Units. They were stored away in Area 51, covered with tarps and lying dormant in one of the hangars there. Vine had been nearing the first field test of these LM Units when Weller had called him in to come work here, in the main facility in New Mexico. Vine had been reluctant to abandon his pet project but unfortunately Weller was quite persuasive, saying how he was tired of Dr. Paulson's constant questioning of orders and how he wanted the far more reliable Vine on the team. So, only days previously Vine had arrived just in time to watch as Weller had revived the Autobot they had "acquired" from the Dutch military previously.

Weller seemed to have forgotten about all the other projects Sector Eight had going. There were obviously the LM Units, a project that Vine had poured his heart and soul into only for it to be relegated to being locked up in a hangar and forgotten about. Then there were the advanced weapons research projects, the ones that had lead to the creation of the first working rail gun that was currently mounted on the US Navy destroyer _Navajo_. There was the portable coil gun project that had managed to supply Sector Eight with several of the prototype weapons, Weller himself having received one. He wasn't carrying it with him now, having since stored it away in his office downstairs. There were several other projects to do with advanced weapons and technology, most of it from reverse-engineering done on Cybertronian technology.

One of Weller's first moves when Sector Eight had been formed had been to assign a group of researchers onto a project that was to lead to the construction of an "anti-Cybertronian" weapon of some sort; Vine had no idea in what form this weapon would be created in though. There had been rumours amongst the people within the organization that the chemical makeup of the Cybertronians had been discovered and that the researchers were at work on a virus capable of more or less "eating" this material. Some were calling it the "Cybertronian eating virus" and was the sort of weapon that could be easily delivered inside missiles and explosives.

Now it seemed none of those side projects mattered. For the last four hours the team here in the laboratory had been working on activating the Spear and tapping into its powers. Vine was yet to find any evidence of any powers that it might have had save for the faint spark of energy within. Even this faint energy could be anything and the only device they had that could read it probably was the one Weller had constructed himself.

Weller stood across the bench, opposite from Vine. He was looking at the Professor with an angry gaze, one with narrowed eyes and a scowl that could have killed a crow. Vine got the message and so readjusted some of the dials and readouts on the bank of computers near him, rolling his eyes once he had turned his back to the Colonel. He knew that these experiments wouldn't work since they had been trying them for the last four hours, ever since they had set up the conditions to undertake them in. It wasn't really exhausting work but it was certainly boring. As well as this it was getting quite hot inside the laboratory, as if the air conditioning had malfunctioned. That wouldn't have been the first time that had happened.

He was one of the few people who worked under the Colonel who had actually gone about discussing Colonel Weller's obvious madness with the other researchers when the Colonel wasn't around. None of the soldiers here could be trusted either since most were loyal to the Colonel and would undoubtedly shoot anyone who questioned him. Most of the researchers and technicians and such were too frightened to speak up about the Colonel and how he treated those under him. Most of them knew that he was crazy and was guiding this organization to its eventual destruction but none of them were willing to say or do anything about it. Vine had taken the position of speaking about it with the others, building up a following that remained hidden from the eyes of Colonel Weller and his loyal soldiers. Vine had been thinking of revealing the existence of Sector Eight to the rest of the government, a move that would undoubtedly force the organization to close down. However, he hadn't gone out and done this since he knew that regardless of whether Colonel Weller still had a job or not he _would_ go out of his way and to any lengths to deliver vengeance to the one who had exposed Sector Eight. That meant that he would kill anyone who threatened the safety of this organization, including Dr. Paulson.

Yes, Dr. Paulson had mysteriously disappeared a few days earlier. Apparently some engineers had seen some of Weller's soldiers loading an occupied body bag into the back of a truck before driving off into the desert, presumably to dump the body. Dr. Paulson had threatened to expose Sector Eight and had made the mistake of saying this to the Colonel after he had found out that Vine was coming in to take his position. Weller had probably shot the man on the spot after hearing this, a possibility that was most likely the truth. Weller had no qualms when it came to killing anyone who got in his way, regardless of whether they worked for him or not.

Thus his presence in the laboratory was an added incentive to the scientists and technicians to work faster and achieve results. Vine was doing the first thing, about working faster. Achieving results would turn out to be far more difficult than any of them had originally anticipated, Weller especially.

"Hit the switch, damn it!" Weller barked, noticing Vine's delay in pulling the lever nearby.

Vine stepped over to the lever set into the wall nearby and pulled it. For the umpteenth time sparks flew from the points where the cables tangled on the floor connected with the power sockets and machinery. A few readout screens flashed before dying and the Spear remained the same as it had been: idle and shining in the fluorescent light being cast down from the ceiling above. The Spear didn't extend nor did it exhibit any signs of containing powers beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Instead, it remained still as if to taunt the Colonel.

"Shit!" Weller shouted, slamming a fist onto the bench. Vine jumped slightly while the other scientists managed a quick glance towards the angered Colonel before returning to their work.

The Colonel still spun the large and chrome silver Magnum revolver in his right hand, continuously twirling it around. On a table in the corner a radio was on, some classic tunes flowing throughout the room in order to create an inviting backdrop. Weller always needed music on somewhere it seemed and inside this laboratory was no different.

Vine was about to say something about how they should just give up when he realized that was probably the least wisest thing he could have done. Weller had grabbed the spearhead and tore it away from the cables attached to it, taking a good long look at it as he rotated it in his left hand. The look in his eyes displayed some sheer hatred, as if he had taken up disliking the object. He probably had and somewhere in his confused mind the spearhead talked to him in a mocking voice.

Vine hadn't been the only one to notice the few odd changes in the Colonel. As crazy as he had been before it seemed that since the 13th of this month Weller had slowly began going even crazier. There had been some slight physical changes as well, noticeable in the blue vein-like lines at the corners of his eyes. Instead of them being red veins, common to blood-shot eyeballs they had been a bright and glowing blue. Weller had since taken up wearing a pair of thick gloves for some reason, a reason that Vine had no clue about.

Not only were there those slightly unnerving physical changes but Weller had suddenly displayed a knowledge of physics and other sciences that would have astounded Einstein and Steven Hawking. This knowledge only seemed to appear when Weller needed it. When he had been detailing how to set up the cables and computers in regards to getting the Spear to work he had gone on and on about nothing in particular, going from one absurd topic to the next while he had scrawled alien symbols in a notepad and showed them to everyone. The look in his eyes had been of absolute insanity since Weller had no idea of how to control the power and knowledge he had. The only one who knew about the incident with the All-spark shard aside from himself was Captain Xander Farnell and he hadn't spoken about it to anyone. This effectively left Vine and everyone else in the dark on the subject, leaving them to work out just what was wrong with Colonel Weller.

"_Because you see, Professor, we have to do this right. We have to tap into the energy that flows between all nineteen Multiverses if Sentinel Prime's theory is to be believed. You heard how there's an infinite number of parallel universes created that play out the other possibilities that the choices we make could have shaped into? Well, it's true. It's all true, Professor. That Spear will allow us to bend reality in such a way that we will be able to summon the energy that runs through every parallel universe, an energy that doesn't abide by the laws of science as we know them. That's why we have to do this right, Professor. It has to be done precisely as I say so. Here's some notes I made on the plane back here from Austria…"_

The pages Weller had given Professor Vine had been covered with artistic looking alien symbols, the type that Vine recognized as Cybertronian from his time working with Sector Seven. Somehow it seemed that Weller had developed a sudden knowledge of this alien race and seemed to have no trouble rattling off the absurd theories as if they were first-hand knowledge to him. Some might have said that Colonel Weller was a walking history book for the Cybertronian race. They would have been right in this assumption except that Weller's knowledge would have made a very thick, if near incoherent book. Parts of the knowledge were missing thus some things made less sense than others while it seemed that Weller could only access it when he needed to and not when he wanted to.

"This damn thing…just look at it!" He shouted suddenly, throwing the spearhead onto the floor. It clacked loudly on the linoleum and bounced off to one side, landing a short distance away.

"It's just a piece of junk!" He shouted, all eyes in the room trained on him. Nobody dared say anything for fear of getting on the receiving end of Weller's Magnum .44 revolver.

That was when his eyes was glassy and he stared down into the floor, his head shaking occasionally from some sort of uncontrollable tic. Vine watched with some curiosity and some worry as Weller remained in this comatose state for about five minutes, the Colonel's eyelids fluttering uncontrollably.

Little did Vine know that the Colonel's overstressed brain was at work. It was at work on determining the reason why the Spear was not doing what it was supposed to. It was at work trying to sort through the plethora of information stored within Colonel Weller's mind thanks to the All-spark shard. A standard MRI scan would have revealed far more brain activity than that of a normal human being and any doctor of medicine or brain surgeon would have been worried. Where a normal human used only ten percent of their brain's total ability, Weller was nearing a startling fifty percent. However, this operated on the idiot savant basis: the knowledge only came to him when he needed it and it would come to him uncontrollably and leave him either hallucinating and with headaches or in a state like this.

"There goes Colonel Weller!" A voice from the doorway said. Vine looked over and saw that it was Captain Farnell, watching as he entered the lab and approached the twitching Colonel.

Farnell stopped a short distance from the Colonel and poked him in the ribs. Colonel Weller didn't react, instead twitching his head some more as his brain went into overtime mode. Farnell managed a weak smile, worried at how his superior had entered this state.

"There's something wrong with him," Vine said, getting Captain Farnell's attention.

Farnell frowned. He was perhaps the closest friend Weller had in the facility and was understandably a little annoyed at Vine's comment. His idol, Colonel Weller, had something wrong with him? Not a chance. Sure, he might be a little eccentric but anyone who had been in this business as long as he had been would be like that. Colonel Weller was a rarity amongst soldiers, capable of tough but excellent leadership as well as displaying excellent organizational skills.

"I think he's just stressed," Farnell replied. He saw the spearhead lying on the floor and bent down to pick it up, taking a close but quick look at it before placing it back onto the bench.

Weller suddenly tensed and the glassy look in his eyes subsided. He seemed to have left his trance-like state and so shot a surprised look at the Captain, having missed seeing him come in. At the same time a look of sudden realization crossed his face making it obvious that his overloaded mind had worked out the answer.

"Are you alright, sir?" Farnell asked, frowning, "you seemed to be in a trance…"

Weller smiled and Vine immediately felt unnerved.

"I'm fine, Captain," Weller said, turning his gaze towards the spearhead which lay on the table. "Hell, I've never felt better. And I think I may have worked out the answer to our problems." He looked up and towards Vine.

"You have?" Vine's voice was laced with doubt. How the hell could the Colonel have just figured it out, just like that? Maybe Vine had been right in his assumption that this knowledge of the Cybertronian race only came around when he needed it. Now had been a time of need and Colonel Weller had come up with the answer…somehow.

"Yes, Professor, I have!" Weller exclaimed, his face beaming with pride. He paused for a moment, taking the time to think of how to say this in a way so that they could understand. The scientific knowledge that had come up in his mind was full of alien words that he understood but the others would not. He would have to do a standard translation from ancient Cybertronian to modern day English. That was something he could probably do in his sleep.

"I should have seen this earlier," Weller said with a hint or irritation, "it all has to do with the Multiversal or Omniversal energy, whatever term you prefer most. Unicron had been exposed to this energy and worked out how to manipulate it, as did Primus. Primus created Cybertron and the earliest Cybertronians, including the Fallen for those of you that don't know. The Spear needs a source of this energy to run. Since Unicron powered himself on this energy he could use the Spear as it is…the Spear itself is useless without a wielder who can transfer the appropriate amount of the energy into the Spear. So, we need some sort of power source and I think I know what.

"You see, there were numerous residual traces of the energy found in the Netherlands during the chaos at Groningen. According to NEST reports, it seems that this residual energy can be traced to a Decepticon who calls himself 'Centurion'. He's on the loose somewhere and is perhaps powered on the energy. He was last seen in Vienna, probably going after the Spear but unfortunately for him we got it before he did."

Weller smiled when he said this and Farnell smiled as well. Vine kept a straight expression, listening to all the nonsense that was pouring out of Weller's mouth. If it had been anyone else saying these things Vine would assume that they were on drugs or something. However, since Colonel Weller was the one saying them and since Colonel Weller had never done any recreational drugs in his life…well, Colonel Weller was the type of man who told the truth regardless of how absurd it sounded. Besides, who was this "Unicron" Weller had mentioned? Who in the hell was "Primus"? All of this talk about parallel universes and residual energy sounded like something out of a bad science fiction movie.

"I can alter my tracking device in order to lock onto this guy," Weller said, "it won't take long and I'm sure we'll be able to capture the fucker. No doubt he's on his way here to find that Spear so we may not even have to travel very far at all."

He turned to Farnell, his gaze serious.

"Captain, go to my office and get the tracking device," Weller ordered. Farnell nodded before turning around and leaving the laboratory. Weller shifted his gaze back towards Professor Vine, his expression still serious which indicated that he was solely concentrated on business now.

"Something bothering you, Professor?" Weller asked. His voice had a hidden sinisterness to it and Vine immediately felt nervous.

Vine realized that he had been giving Weller an incredulous look the whole time he had delivered his whacko explanation about why the spear wasn't working. Vine could tell that Weller was trying to work out what he was thinking and was perhaps close to doing it. Besides, hadn't the Colonel killed Galloway yesterday? There were rumours that Weller had although Vine did not know the full details.

Before Vine could reply Farnell had hurried back into the lab holding the unwieldy tracking device Weller had constructed. He set it on the bench near the spearhead and Weller stepped towards it, beginning to work on its control panel. He seemed to have completely forgotten about Vine's doubt on the subject and was now concentrating intently on the tracking device, fiddling with switches and dials. This went on for about ten minutes as Weller failed again and again to get a lock on what he was after, swearing quietly to himself.

"Got him!" He exclaimed suddenly, gazing at the GPS screen. The look of triumph on his ageing features changed to one of surprise. Farnell noticed this and gazed at the GPS screen as well, a similar look of surprise crossing his face as well.

"What is it?" Vine asked.

Colonel Weller frowned, considering what the blips on the GPS could mean. He took a moment to answer, making sure that the device wasn't malfunctioning in any way. He obviously knew what he was doing, further implying that the wealth of knowledge in his mind came only when he needed it.

"There are two blips here, both viable targets," Weller said, his tone one of bewilderment, "and the funny thing is that they're both within miles of each other. One's stationary and in Tranquility, Nevada while the other one is moving at a fast speed across the desert, perhaps as fast as a jet…What sort of jet, I don't know…" He shook his head, tapping the GPS screen as if he thought that would help.

Vine wasn't sure what to think of all of this. It all sounded so absurd yet Weller was dead serious about it. Vine was looking forward to taking a break since Weller would undoubtedly take himself and a team to check out the town of Tranquility and thus Vine would be left with nothing to do. He thought of calling Area 51 and checking up on the LM Units but his hopes for reviving this pet project were dashed when he heard what Weller said next.

"Captain, organize a team and a means of transport to Tranquility," Weller ordered before turning to look at Professor Vine, "While you, Professor, will be coming with us. No doubt your scientific knowhow will come in handy, even if I may know a lot more about it now than you do."

Vine had been smiling to himself before he had heard this. When the meaning of these words registered in his mind his mouth fell agape. He was going? Why would they need him?

He realized why when Weller grabbed the spearhead and slipped it into a pocket on his trousers. They would activate the Spear as soon as they had gotten a hold of this "Centurion", regardless of where they were. Vine was vaguely aware that this was all part of some grand scheme that Weller had cooked up, a scheme that involved some alien ruins in Venezuela and the ultimate goal of eradicating the Cybertronian presence on Earth. Weller had always said how little time they had had left yet Vine could see no hurry to what they were going to do.

"I'm better off here, Colonel," Vine said, "besides, there are other projects as well that I'm involved in. This isn't the only one…"  
Weller managed an annoyed frown.

"It's the most important one, Professor," Weller said matter-of-factly. He slipped his Magnum revolver into the holster at his waist, ignoring the Professor's stunned expression.

"I've been having visions, Professor," Weller continued, gazing towards Vine with narrowed eyes, "Those dreams tell me that time is short. Something big is coming and it's up to us to make sure the good guys win. We're the good guys Professor and whether you like it or not you've got to come with us."

Visions? What did any of this have to do with visions? Vine was a scientist and visions and dreams were merely echoes of the subconscious mind played out in unconsciousness or, in the case of visions played out during consciousness. Visions could be counted as hallucinations and thus they meant nothing yet the gaze Weller had on his face could have convinced anybody otherwise.

"Everything that's happened over the one hundred years of human history has been connected. Megatron's arrival on Earth in the Arctic Circle was only the beginning. Up until now, this war's only been warming up. Soon the final battle will be at hand and only one side will emerge victorious. I would like to think that you're with me on the winning side, Professor. You're a good man and the visions I had told me that you had to come."

Vine listened to all of this absurd nonsense while keeping the stunned expression on his face. Weller was insane, there was no doubt about that. Yet he was dead serious and no crazy man Vine knew of was dead serious about the nonsense he was talking about.

"There are some forces beyond our control," Weller continued, his tone serious, "I know that I'm being guided, perhaps by God to the final battle. That's why you, I, Farnell and several others must go to Tranquility in order to set the final events into motion. Some might say that Judgement Day is upon us…"

"Exactly when did you have these 'visions', Colonel?" Vine asked, losing the stunned gaze and straightening his face up a bit. He was a scientist and he was meant to keep a cool head. All of this nonsensical talk about "Judgement Day" and a "final battle" was beginning to unnerve him although Weller's sheer madness had unnerved him enough already.

"Just minutes ago, Professor," Weller said, referring to the short time he had spent in a trance-like state.

This response just further supported the theory in Vine's mind that Weller was completely crazy. Of course, Vine knew he had no choice of whether or not he would be heading off with Weller on this "holy mission" of his.

"So pack your bags," Weller stated bluntly, "We're heading off to Tranquility."


	37. When it rains

**When it rains…  
**Tranquility, Nevada  
December 16th, 2010

While the rain poured down outside, Sam Witwicky was lead into the private study of James Turner within the church and was suitably unnerved and surprised at the amount of curiosities the priest had taped onto the back wall. Most were newspaper clippings and printed internet articles relating to sightings of Cybertronians on different parts of the Earth. Some of the newspaper articles dated back to the late 1970s. In all, one could come to the safe conclusion that the race of alien robots had visited Earth many times in the last few decades. As well as this Sam assumed that James Turner was practically obsessed with them, perhaps keeping tabs on current sightings on the side while he worked as a priest in this rundown church.

Whatever the reason Sam had been sent here for one thing and that was Centurion's device. The priest had it in his possession yet hadn't made this perfectly clear. As they entered the study James stepped over to the desk and pulled open one of the drawers, beginning to rummage through the items inside. While he did this Sam took a look around at the small, cosy room. He noticed that there was a closed suitcase on the bed in the corner and that a few changes of clothes were folded up nearby. It was obvious the priest had been packing his bags to leave but where was he going to go and why?

There must have been a good reason why this priest had spent since the late 1970s keeping tabs on Cybertronian sightings on Earth and the government cover-ups that went with them. To Sam this was the sort of thing that cemented in his mind that James Turner was perhaps a little crazy although the truth in what he had been trying to expose was there. There were alien robots on Earth and James had been pursuing leads on their existence for years.

James found the folder he was looking for and turned around, opening it as he did so. He skimmed through what was inside before turning it around in his hands in order to allow Sam to look at the first page. Sam was quite surprised to see his identification photo on the first page, positioned above the beginning of a lengthy set of descriptions for him. Sam felt only slightly unnerved, figuring that if the priest had been looking for alien robots then sooner or later he would have determined Sam's connection to it all.

The priest noticed Sam's faltered gaze and simply smiled, turning the open manilla folder around in order to continue reading through what was printed on the pages.

"I had a feeling that sooner or later you would show up," James said, "I thought I recognized you but I couldn't be sure. And now it seems that you're the one most of my more reliable leads keep mentioning. You're the human kid who's managed to beat these evil aliens on two separate occasions."

He held out a hand, a beaming smile on his face. Sam didn't know what to think but he shook the priest's hand somewhat uneasily, that feeling of unease still on his mind. How could this guy have gotten that sort of information about him in what appeared to be an official file? It was something that Sam would have to ask about, even if he was sort of nervous about this guy. Then again, James was a priest and weren't priests meant to be nice guys?

"I was thinking of seeking you out myself but since you were up in Seattle I didn't bother," James continued, "my place is in this town, regardless of how dull this place is…."

"How do you have that file?" Sam frowned. "What, are you some sort of alien nut or something? That…well, I…uh…wasn't expecting that sort of thing from a priest…"  
Sam was thinking that these hurried words would only offend James but surprisingly the priest just chuckled heartily. On the expensive looking personal computer on the desk behind him a screensaver consisting of a bunch of coloured lines criss-crossing the screen was in the process of mesmerizing Sam, making his gaze shift from the priest to the computer screen.

"I have many sources, Sam," James said, "and those sources include a few ex-government agents who know a lot about this sort of thing. For over thirty years I've spent my spare time trying to expose the existence of these alien robots to the public and it wasn't until recently that I was close to succeeding. There are, however, people out there who would prefer I be gone…"

"Gone?" Sam looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

James just managed a grim nod.

"They probably wouldn't hesitate to kill you as well," James continued, "but luckily I've managed to avoid stirring up the hornet's nest too much. At least, that was until recently."

_Thanks for the reassurance,_ Sam thought. It was obvious that James knew about the existence of the Cybertronians so there was no use in telling him otherwise although Sam, up until now, had been thinking of doing that. The way James' ageing features were creased into a frown told him that something rather weighty was on the priest's mind. Whatever it was Sam decided against asking anymore questions, preferring to try and work out why he had even troubled himself to come here in the first place.

He still wondered why he had agreed to do this. Sure, the device that belonged to this "Centurion" guy was important and it was better if none of the Autobots exposed themselves to more humans in getting it. Hence, they had managed to talk Sam into getting it for them while managing all this talk about some "Unicron" guy and how much of an evil bastard he was. Sam didn't see the point in the Autobots keeping hidden from James since he seemed to know enough about them already.

"Listen, I sort of have an important errand to do, you know?" Sam said, unable to keep the impatience from creeping into his voice, "I was sent here to get something…I'm not sure what but I've been told that it's very important. Whatever it is, you apparently have it. It's important that I get it and give it to some friends of mine…otherwise, well…I'm not sure what will happen…" Sam trailed off, realizing just how vague he sounded. Then again, he hadn't been told too much about the device he needed to get except that it had once belonged to a Decepticon named "Centurion".

James was frowning at him, trying to work out what Sam was on about. Sam had a feeling that he sounded like a rambling idiot, probably because of the annoyance he felt for having an otherwise good day ruined by the intervention of the Autobots. Whenever they came along it seemed that there would be trouble.

"Listen son," James said sternly, "I was in the process of packing some luggage before you showed up because you see, I have to head out on the road and meet someone. He would really like to see a particular item I managed to recover and risk my neck to get. I don't know why you're here or who sent you but I've got enough on my plate already…"

"Who sent me?" Sam could tell that talking the device off of the priest was going to be difficult. He needed to gain some of James' trust first and this was probably going to take some time.

"You should know who sent me," Sam continued, "the, uh…robots, you know? The tall, big metal guys who change into cars and stuff? You seem to know about me and my connection to them and it just so happens that me getting the item you 'acquired' from..err…wherever is very important. Well, I'm not sure just _how_ important it is but if it's got these robot friends of mine all worried then it must be important…Like, _really_ important. They told me about this big evil guy who's on the loose, his name's…uh…'Centurion'. He's out to get this device for himself and I'm sure he's not the type who would…um…hesitate to simply blow the crap out of this church of yours…"

James listened to every word Sam said, nodding slowly as he talked yet at the same time he didn't seem to be paying much attention. He interrupted Sam mid-sentence, having heard enough.

"Really? They sent you did they?" James frowned again. "I can tell you Sam that I am not afraid of any robot bastard, even if he has a name like 'Centurion'. Let him come over here, I ain't going to give him anything I have. Besides, I can't just hand this device over to you since for all I know you could be in league with Weller…"

Sam had already reached the conclusion that he was wasting his time here and had been about to leave the conversation when the priest mentioned the name: Weller. Who the hell was Weller? And why did James say this name with such distaste and a look of dislike? Still, Sam was bordering on just leaving and telling Deadeye to get the device himself.

He still couldn't quite believe that Deadeye was Optimus Prime's son. Robots having kids just didn't make sense to him yet apparently they had children…somehow. His mind was by now beginning to wander although it took only a few moments for Sam to remember the question he had been meaning to ask.

"Who's Weller?"

"He's in charge of the organization I snatched the device from," James said, "he's one serious bloodthirsty bastard. This organization, they call themselves 'Sector Eight' yet they don't operate as a legitimate government organization. In fact, they're rogue. Completely and totally rogue."

Sector Eight? Sam knew about Sector Seven and how they had been the ones to find the All-spark and Megatron on Earth in the first place. Sector Seven had been shut down shortly after the battle in Mission City and it was understandable that some of those ex-agents got themselves involved in less legal forms of government work. A rogue organization stemming from this seemed quite plausible and according to James it was a very real scenario.

Some agents, like Reggie Simmons had ended up out of work. Simmons had ended up working in his mother's deli, a rather long step down from his former position in Sector Seven. Last time Sam had seen Simmons had been on the aircraft carrier after the battle in Egypt where they had been all shipped home. Apparently Simmons was going to be given a healthy pension to live off for the rest of his life so he would never have to work again. Sam had received similar compensation in the form of the government paying his college fees in full. It seemed the United States government would do anything to keep people quiet when it came to the war between the Autobots and Decepticons.

"I received a tip-off from some guy who calls himself 'RoboWarrior' a number of days ago," James continued, "he's the one who told me about something big going down in New Mexico. I went out there and found a secret facility and surprisingly enough this had been Sector Eight's main base. This was where I found the device you want so badly. I happened to get found out while there and so it only seems safe to assume that Weller's going to send some of his men over here to get the device off me. You Sam could very well be under Weller's control whether it is through blackmail or something…Call me paranoid but I think that it's a very real possibility…"

Sam had heard of "RoboWarrior" before. It didn't take him long to realize it was Agent Simmons' Internet alias from the website he ran (). This made sense since Simmons was the type of ex-government guy who could get this sort of information through various contacts he had in the government.

"I'm keeping the device whether you like it or not," James said, stepping over to the bed and picking up the suitcase.

"You know I could just go outside and tell my friend Bumblebee that you're not willing to hand this…whatever it is over," Sam said. He wasn't sure just what he should say and so was speaking more on impulse rather than from careful thought. "_Think before you act"_ people always said. Yeah, well Sam Witwicky wasn't very good at doing that.

James turned around and raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"Bumblebee?" James smiled. "Is that one of your robot friends? Because if it is, go tell him he has a damn stupid name."

Sam simply rolled his eyes. He wasn't getting anywhere with this guy. _I thought priests were meant to be good listeners yet this guy's barely giving me any notice._

"Look, can I at least see the device?" Sam asked, figuring that he would work something out, "According to a friend of mine it's cylindrical…slightly radioactive, covered with…um, uh…alien symbols…that sort of thing? And it happens to belong to a big bad guy called Centurion and I can guarantee you that he's on his way here right now…"

James was once again unfazed by this statement. However, he did open the suitcase and pulled out a large cylindrical object that was wrapped in an old dirtied blanket. He pulled the blanket partially away, revealing a silver cylindrical device with glowing blue ridge lines that was etched with symbols that Sam recognized as Cybertronian.

"Is this what you're looking for?" James asked, "Because I was thinking…if Weller had you wearing a wire or something he would be in the process of busting into this place. Since he hasn't done that yet that either means he's really patient which I highly doubt or you're not working for him."

"That's it?" Sam said aloud, more to himself than anyone else. He couldn't believe that he was wasting his time with this. He had come down to Tranquility to spend some time with friends and family and play computer games…not so he could go on errands for the Autobots.

What James was holding looked like any other piece of alien space treasure that Sam had encountered. There was the All-spark and the Matrix of Leadership…now there was this. It seemed all the Cybertronians ever built were powerful artefacts and that they all seemed to end up on Earth one way or another.

"Yeah, this is it," James replied, tucking the device under one arm. He seemed to be at ease, as if his fears of Sam being some sort of spy had been proven as false. Sam knew well enough that they _were_ false.

"I'm heading up to Las Vegas to see this 'RoboWarrior' fellow," James continued, "according to him something real big is about to go down in regards to this piece of alien treasure."

"Las Vegas?" Sam frowned. What would Simmons be doing in Las Vegas? No doubt living the high life he could afford thanks to the healthy government pension he was getting for his "heroism" during the battle in Egypt.

"Yeah, I know, Las Vegas…crazy huh?" James trailed off, smiling at the thought of visiting this particular city. "Maybe you could tag along since you seem so interested in this alien treasure I have?"

Sam shook his head. He had done it immediately upon hearing the priest's question. The last thing Sam wanted was to get involved anymore than he already was. As much as he would have liked to go to Las Vegas he doubted he would have enough money to last him a night on the blackjack tables. Then again he wasn't quite twenty-one yet so he wouldn't be allowed into any of the casinos.

No, Sam had come here to get an alien device and that's what he would do. Going to Las Vegas with this crazy priest would only be a distraction from his original goal. Besides, he barely knew this guy and wasn't about to go on a road-trip with him.

"What? You don't want to come?" James shrugged. "That's your decision, not mine. I'll send you postcard maybe? I know your address, it's in the file I have on you…"

"Just listen, alright?" Sam asked, his patience just about gone. He had wasted enough of his time here listening to the priest ramble on and yet he was no closer to get a hold of that alien artefact. Maybe he would be best off leaving? Bumblebee could easily punch a hole in the church and snatch the artefact right from James Turner's grasp.

"You may think you know a hell of a lot about these aliens but trust me, you don't know much until you've been thrown around by them and shot at by them. I even _died_ once because of them. Can you believe that? Trust me, you do not want to have that artefact with you when the bad guys come searching for it and find you with it. They'll…uh…they'll probably just blow you up and pick it up from what's left of you. That's why I'm here, alright? I'm here so I can take it off your hands and give it to some very capable friends of mine. According to them there is a lot at stake and some of it even involves…uh…well, I'm not too sure of it myself but you could say that there's more at stake here than you might think."

Sam was almost out of breath by the time he was finished saying this. He could see that James had been listening carefully, nodding occasionally and considering each point Sam had made.

"So you're saying I should just hand it over to you for my own safety?" James asked, the doubt evident in his voice.

"Yes, that's…yeah, that's one way of putting it," Sam replied a little uncertainly. He knew he sounded like a brash idiot but he had no other way of responding. He was already annoyed enough at his situation already, thinking why he had to go out of his way just to get some piece of ancient alien junk. What could be so special about it anyway?

"What's to say these bad aliens won't just arrive when you have it and kill you?" James asked.

Sam had no immediate response, a bemused expression appearing n his face.

"Ah, well that's a good point," He said, watching as James nodded with agreement, "but you see, one of my robot friends…he's outside and he can just take it from me when I leave. No…ah…fuss at all…"

James seemed intrigued by the sheer fact that one of these alien robots was outside. He leaned forward, his gaze inquisitive and somewhat excited. Sam could only manage a slight but uneasy grin.

"One of them is here?" James asked, "Can I meet him?"

"Uh…well…"

"Come on, otherwise I ain't never going to give you this artefact you and your alien friends want," James replied, holding up the alien device and shaking it in front of Sam's face.  
Sam couldn't really care for the device itself but he knew that an opportunity had presented itself. Once he had given the device over to the Autobots Sam could leave all of that alien war stuff behind him and get on with living a normal life.

"You want to meet him?" Sam asked, just to make sure.

"You said his name's Bumblebee, right?"

"Uh…yeah…"

"Well, I want to meet him," James said, growing impatient, "Come on, what's so hard about taking me outside to meet him?"

Sam didn't know what to say. He seemed to be good at not knowing what to say. When he needed to answer someone he found that forming a cohesive response was more difficult than it should have been. He wasn't too fond of going outside into the rain though. He was cold and wet enough already.

"It's raining…" Sam started, realizing just how weak of an excuse this was. Rain? Who cared about a little rain? A single glance over at the window at the other side of the room made it clear that it was more than just a "little" rain. In fact, it was absolutely pouring out there.

"So what?" James replied, "I don't mind getting a bit wet. I'm sure the opportunity to meet an alien is worth the trouble anyway."

Sam only nodded, watching as the priest walked briskly past him and back up the short flight of steps that went into the corridor outside the room. Sam could only follow, the priest leading him back out into the main hall seconds before lightning flashed outside. The bright-white flash cast eerie shadows through the windows. Thunder cracked loudly overhead, indicating that this particular lightning strike had been awfully close.

However, this near deafening sound was quickly forgotten about when the pair in the church's main hall heard the other sounds coming from outside. There was the unmistakable sound of a heavy gun firing before several explosions sounded from outside, orange flashes happening with them that flashed through the windows at the front of the church. Sam heard these unmistakable sounds of battle and started running, knowing that there was trouble outside. He didn't know what but he was sure Bumblebee could handle it.

Behind him James had started running as well, just as curious and worried as to what these noises could be coming from. The pair made it to the door, their previous qualms forgotten as they pushed open the double doors and stepped out into the cold and wet outside.

* * *

Only minutes earlier Jones had been sitting in the passenger seat of the fifth generation Chevrolet Camaro with the yellow paintjob and black racing stripes on its front. Running through his mind was what he had encountered only a couple of hours ago at the train-yard after having followed his apparently stolen car as it had driven off without him.

Jones had stumbled into some sort of gathering of sorts, seeing the three robots before realizing that one beared the many parts of his own car. This had caused him to faint but he had only been out for a few minutes, waking up to find that young guy, Sam Witwicky, standing over him. Sam seemed like a nice enough kid but also seemed like a bit of an idiot, the type that always seemed to try and talk his way out of a situation but always failing miserably. He had probably been the type to get bullied at high school.

Apparently Jones' new car was an alien robot that called itself "Deadeye". As absurd as this was he had even met Deadeye and it seemed that this robot had had very humanlike tendencies, speaking perfect English as he went on to explain his situation. Deadeye had come to Tranquility to lay low before he had detected some sort of special device, Jones wasn't quite sure just what this device was and what it did. Apparently it was important to these robots which was why they had gotten Sam to try and get it from this priest here in the less well-off section of town.

Richard had been right all along about the existence of alien robots. As many times as Jones' friend had told him about these government cover-ups and the existence of aliens he had been unable to quite believe them yet still found that he could put them in his movie scripts, no matter how absurd the idea. No doubt this whole "alien robots" thing would make a great basis for a movie…already his imagination was running into overdrive as he began to formulate ideas and a basic storyline.

Sam had told him about some basic things to do with these robots: they were from a planet called Cybertron and the three that Jones had met had been named Smokescreen, Bumblebee and Deadeye. All three had gotten their knowledge of human language and culture off of the Internet and all three were part of a group called the "Autobots". It sounded so damn absurd that Jones was still trying to make sense of it, as if it hadn't "clicked" in his mind yet.

And so the Autobots had talked a dazed Jones Marshall into tagging along with Sam Witwicky. It was all just bad luck, Jones thought, how his new car had turned out to be an alien robot. If he hadn't of won the car he wouldn't be in this situation and some other sod would be…Jones would still be looking for employment and would still be contemplating on leaving Tranquility and his bitchy mother behind for good. Now, with his involvement in this alien business he had an excuse to forget about those things. It wouldn't be so bad if it hadn't been for the rather unnerving things Sam had told him on the way here.

The Autobots were from some planet called "Cybertron" and had been at war with the evil "Decepticons" for a long time. Apparently there were Decepticons on Earth and every one of them were evil, conniving bastards who enjoyed causing destruction and general chaos. According to Deadeye there was a good chance that one of them would be after the device the old priest had in his possession. That meant that there could be big bad robots on their way here, something that only made Jones wish he had not gotten himself involved.

How had he been supposed to know that his car was not a car but some sort of sentient alien robot with a slight British accent? What the hell kind of bullshit was that? Sam seemed pretty confident in his robot friends and that the fact that these evil Decepticons existed didn't seem to worry him at all. On the drive here Sam had briefly discussed his previous run-ins with Decepticons and how he had managed to help save the world on two occasions.

_Well, wasn't that just good for you then Sam Witwicky? You saved the world twice while the only thing I ever amounted to was working at a supermarket and earning barely enough money to keep the household going._ Jones knew such resentment was unnecessary right now but he still felt it and he didn't so much as dislike Sam. Instead, Sam's apparent success only made him feel like more of a loser. Jones Marshall had done nothing except go right through primary and secondary school before his father had decided to make a disappearing act to Africa, occasionally sending them money but doing very little else. "Charity work" he had said. That was a blatant lie yet Jones' mother hadn't admitted it. While her husband was in Africa doing God knew what she was still in Tranquility, managing to make life miserable for her son and only child.

Jones decided to get his mind off such depressing thoughts. He still found it hard to believe that he was actually _inside_ one of the Autobots, this one being the one called "Bumblebee". Bumblebee was changed into his car mode and he beared all the properties of the car he had changed into. No one would have known the real truth behind the expensive looking yellow Camaro parked outside the church unless they had inadvertently found out like Jones had.

Jones fiddled with the radio on the dashboard. Heck, this whole car disguise was so convincing even the air conditioning worked. It was genuine, every inch of this disguise right down to the loose coins lost under the mat on the floor under his seat.

"_Yeah, I keep wondering…I keep wondering…Who'll stop the rain?"_

As the radio played this seemingly fitting song Jones heard a loud _thump_ from somewhere outside. He looked through his side's window, not expecting to see anything really interesting. It was pouring rain outside and the whole street was slicked with water while the gutters flowed with what looked to be a miniature river. Across the street was a row of small old houses will ill-maintained gardens. Rain droplets pattered loudly on the metal of the car and on its windows, dribbling down the curvatures of its shape.

Jones' eyes widened and his heart seemed to stop when he saw what was standing across the street. Luckily his heart kept beating (because if he didn't he would be technically dead) yet he was sure it had skipped a beat or two. The things Sam had said about evil robots sprang to mind immediately.

There was the towering and absolutely fearsome figure of the grey-silver form of a thirty foot (perhaps taller) robot. Its eyes glowed a bright red and it was covered with jagged silver and grey armour plating. Its hands were like metallic claws while its head beared a mouth lined with jagged metallic teeth. Another figure of similar size (although slightly shorter) and of a slimmer frame stood nearby. There appeared to be a set of what looked to be jet fighter's wings on the back of this one. Both robots had their gaze fixed on the Camaro and its lone occupant.

"Oh, shit."

Immediately Jones went for the steering wheel but a gruff, manly voice broke in over the radio. It was obviously a sound clip taken from some movie, probably some serious gangster one by the sound of it.

"_Get out of the car!"_ The voice yelled at him.

Jones' side's door opened and he found himself stumbling out of the car in his hurry to make a run for it. He was damn sure that the evil robots had arrived and the only thing between him and them was Bumblebee. According to Sam Bumblebee couldn't talk like thee others, instead using whatever sound effects he could find to communicate. Most of what he said were direct audio clips from movies, television shows and radio stations. It would have been safe to say that Bumblebee never kept the same voice for more than a sentence.

Jones fell into a puddle on the concrete whilst being soaked by the pouring rain. He started to crawl away along the concrete, the fear in him almost paralysing his muscles. He couldn't gather the strength to stand up, not now not when there were two badass robots after him.

Were they after him? Why wouldn't they be? No, he realized that they would have been after the device that Sam had come here to get and that Jones had been talked into helping him to get. Some help Jones was. Just what could he do? And what the hell could he do about the situation now?

Once Jones was a few metres clear Bumblebee jumped up and into his robot form, his chain gun appearing over his right hand. He held it at the ready as he confronted both Megatron and Starscream at once yet he displayed such infectious confidence that even Jones felt a little relief as he crawled away, occasionally looking back at the battle that was about to begin.

Bumblebee stood poised to attack, waiting for his opponents to make the first move. He knew his odds were reasonable but perhaps not the best. The two Decepticons were here for Centurion's device and Bumblebee knew that he couldn't allow them to get hold of it.

The rain kept on pouring, trickling down the armour on all three robots as they stood poised to fight. Neither Megatron or Starscream felt any concern about their opponent for Bumblebee was only about half of Megatron's size and would be no match for him. At least, this was what Megatron thought anyway. Starscream was thinking along the same lines.

Jones found his way behind one of the short stone walls that went around one of the garden beds out the front of the church. From here he watched as the Decepticon with the jet's wings on its back brought out a cannon on its right arm and fired a salvo of missiles. Bumblebee rolled out of their way and all three missiles slammed into the ground near him, sending up plumes of dirt and concrete. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked loudly overhead. Jones could only watch from his hiding place as the battle began and he could only root for the good guy (Bumblebee). He was powerless to do much else since he was fairly certain both Decepticons would have no trouble in swatting him aside like an annoying insect. So he watched…and thought positive thoughts despite the grim circumstances. It was pouring rain and two of the toughest bad guys had arrived on the scene. Now a fight was starting, one that Jones knew he could do little to change. This fact filled him with sheer frustration for as frightened as he was he still wanted to help.

Maybe he would get his chance. Maybe he wouldn't need to help since Bumblebee might completely thrash his opponents. Maybe he would be witness to the beginning of a dark day for the Autobots on Earth.

So he watched from behind the garden bed as Bumblebee proceeded to return fire, the chain-gun rounds pounding into the Decepticon with the jet's wings on its back. These only seemed to infuriate the bad guy since he proceeded to fire his rocket launcher again and again. Now the battle was in full swing and all Jones could do was wait for someone to win, whoever that would be.


	38. it Pours

…**it Pours  
**Tranquility, Nevada  
December 16th, 2010

The rain was pouring and the thunder was rumbling up high in the dark grey clouds that hung over the town, continuing to drop their payload of water with little sign of stopping. The street where the old church was located was by now completely slicked and glistening with water while the many potholes on the road had filled. Water gushed down the gutters, the gutters themselves barely able to cope with the torrential rainfall.

Bumblebee had taken both Sam and Jones here to the church and had waited outside with Jones while Sam had gone on into the church. The human here had the device in his possession and how he had gotten it didn't really matter. What mattered was that he had it and that getting it from him was of utmost importance. Rather than expose their existence to the human Bumblebee had suggested to Deadeye that they get Sam Witwicky to do it. It was a simple task but a task that would benefit the Autobots somewhat, especially since Centurion himself was on the loose somewhere and probably after the device.

Bumblebee had been just as surprised as Smokescreen and Depthcharge when he had encountered Deadeye. Common belief was that Deadeye had been killed whilst on a mission with Optimus and Ironhide decades ago, back on Cybertron. The mission had been carried out in order to at the very least eliminate Centurion at his headquarters although capturing him had been preferable. From what Bumblebee had heard, both Deadeye and Centurion had simply disappeared and had never been seen again…until now.

Bumblebee had done his best to keep in the loop when it came to war business here on Earth but he had been surprised to see both Smokescreen and Depthcharge, having not known that they were coming or still alive for that matter. Apparently they had arrived yesterday and had been sent here to keep on eye on Sam and determine why the Decepticons had an interest in the town once again. None of them had been expecting to find Deadeye here in Tranquility but it seemed there had been a reason to why he was here.

Deadeye had been revived by some hostile humans before he had managed to escape, taking the guise of an Earth car before letting himself be taken out to Tranquility. Centurion's device was in town according to what Deadeye could detect and he knew that it was perhaps in his best interest to get hold of it.

So now Bumblebee was here, expecting the task of acquiring Centurion's device to be carried out with little trouble. It worried him to think that Centurion was back after several decades of absence and it concerned him even more that Centurion was on the loose on Earth.

Ironhide was dead, killed by Centurion. Bumblebee had developed a close friendship with Ironhide over the years and so felt that a piece of his life was missing without the weapons specialist as a friend. He was thinking that he might get a chance to deliver retribution to Centurion but he doubted it. There was a chance that Centurion was on his way here to Tranquility but according to Smokescreen and Depthcharge this wasn't the case.

Megatron and Starscream were somewhere in the town, probably laying low and keeping watch. Smokescreen and Deadeye were in vehicle modes and were parked in nearby streets, keeping an eye out as Sam spent some time talking to James Turner inside the church. Depthcharge was also somewhere nearby, having kept tabs on the priest for the last twenty-four hours.

According to Deadeye the device they were after was what gave Centurion some special abilities, he just wasn't quite sure what. In fact, he had been quite vague yet at the same time blatantly certain that the device had some sort of powers and had figured that it was probably important to Centurion. No doubt such a device would be able to help the Autobots in their war effort against the Decepticons.

Jones had been seated within Bumblebee's vehicle mode, flicking through radio stations before resting on one and sitting back in his seat. As far as Bumblebee could tell, Jones Marshall was still incredulous towards the existence of the Autobots and was strangely quiet as if he was still trying to fathom the whole idea. Regardless of what he thought about it he had been inadvertently brought into it, having been the "owner" of Deadeye. He had stumbled upon three of the Autobots at a train yard in town and so rather than deny everything it had made more sense to include him. At least, this had been the conclusion Deadeye had reached.

Bumblebee wondered whether Optimus knew that his only son was alive. The Prime barely spoke of the son he had, the one that had apparently died at a fairly young age. Deadeye was even younger than Bumblebee and until today Bumblebee had been the youngest of the Autobots here on Earth, excepting perhaps the Twins.

There was probably good reason why Optimus had barely spoken of the son few knew he had. For one thing he had seemed somewhat disappointed in the direction Deadeye had been going in regards to the war effort and his place in the Autobot ranks. One day Deadeye would be a Prime…but that idea had long since been dumped after his apparent death. Optimus had disapproved of Deadeye's recklessness in combat and his arrogance. The pressure of one day becoming the leader of the Autobots had probably sent Deadeye on this path. He had a lot to live up to, after all.

The reunion between father and son would perhaps not be so touching after all. In fact, Bumblebee doubted that the pair would even throw a glance at each other. Optimus would probably try and break the ice but would ultimately fail.

It had not been much of a surprise when Bumblebee's waiting around for Sam was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of two powerful foes. In fact, Bumblebee realized he should have expected as much. He saw Megatron and Starscream touch down out on the rain-soaked street, eyeing the Autobot carefully as they proceeded to take out their weapons.

Jones almost wet himself when he saw them and had been about to grab the steering wheel and floor the accelerator when Bumblebee had warned him against doing it. There was no use in running away since that would simply leave Sam vulnerable since it was obvious the pair of Decepticons was after the device. Sam was still inside the church talking to the old priest and was thus completely oblivious to the arrival of the two powerful Decepticons.

Bumblebee had opened one door and allowed Jones to tumble out onto the wet pavement. Once Jones was a few metres clear Bumblebee had jumped up and changed into his full robot mood, unpacking the chain gun from his right arm. The weapon covered his right hand, allowing his fingers easy access to the trigger within.

There was no fear in Bumblebee. He had since become hardened to the fighting of the war that had ravaged Cybertron and had gone beyond feeling fear of battle. He was faced with perhaps the two most powerful Decepticons still alive (except maybe for Centurion) yet he was filled with a calm, almost serene feeling. Sure, there was that small speck of fear inside him but this was the type of fear that kept him in control and prevented him from becoming reckless or complacent. Years of fighting in a war had made Bumblebee the calm fighter he is now. He often relished the thought of slaying Decepticons, especially the bigger ones like Megatron and Starscream.

He stood at the ready, preferring to let his opponents make the first move. He could tell from the looks upon their jagged metal faces that Megatron and Starscream thought little of the Autobot they were faced with, thinking that he would be a mere pushover. Bumblebee was only about half of Megatron's size after all and was a hell of a lot younger than him. What threat could an Autobot like him present to the all powerful Megatron?

Bumblebee stood his ground, his gaze moving from Starscream and then to Megatron and back again. None of them had made any real combat moves but they had all brought out their weapons of choice. Starscream sported on his right arm a missile launcher while Megatron had turned his right arm into a rapid-fire energy cannon. There was no doubt in any of their minds that a fight would erupt. It was just left to someone to make the first move.

Bumblebee knew what he had to do: Protect Sam, Jones, the other humans and make sure that Centurion's device did not fall into the hands of the Decepticons. These objectives were considerably easier to think about than to actually carry out. There was no use in trying to run away from what was obviously going to be a tough fight since this would simply allow Megatron and Starscream a path straight to Centurion's device. Bumblebee was the only one in their way that stood a chance of holding them off.

"Bumblebee, we meet again," Megatron said, his voice echoing throughout the mostly empty street. He seemed to manage a metallic smile, bearing a set of jagged metal teeth.

"Perhaps you should stand aside and let Starscream and myself through?" Megatron added, his tone snarky. "Starscream and I have to retrieve something…we wouldn't want you or anyone else getting hurt, wouldn't we?"

There was no way in hell that Bumblebee would be stepping aside anytime soon. Despite the fact that both of his opponents were bigger and stronger than him Bumblebee still managed to keep his air of confidence, holding up his chain-gun arm with noticeable determination and lack of fear. He had been in these sorts of situations many times in the past and was accustomed to standard Decepticon intimidation. It seemed that most Decepticons were overconfident and arrogant and they all enjoyed delivering some rather standard insults. Bumblebee had heard them all before and their words he had never taken seriously.

It took him a second to find the correct audio clip to portray the response he had in mind. He would have smiled if he could but he didn't exactly have a proper mouth to begin with.

"_Kiss my ass."_ The tone of the human's voice in the audio clip was stern and gruff, sounding like the sort of person you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of. Bumblebee raised his left hand and managed a crude human gesture with his middle finger, wondering if the two Decepticons would understand it or not.

Starscream seemed the most annoyed at Bumblebee's apparent insolence. Then again Starscream had a large ego that was easily dented by the simplest of insults and he often threw temper tantrums when things didn't go his way. No doubt he was planning on removing Megatron in order to take his place as leader of the Decepticons but so far he hadn't had the guts to try this scheme.

"Out of the way, Autobot," Megatron spat the words with obvious hatred, seething with anger.

Another thing Bumblebee had found that Decepticons had in common with one another were their short tempers and impatient moods. He could tell that these two Decepticons ahead of him were no different.

Where was Smokescreen and Deadeye? Shouldn't they be here by now? And where was Depthcharge for that matter? Sure, Bumblebee was confident in his own abilities but he wasn't sure that he would be able to keep the pair of Decepticons at bay. He needed to buy Sam and the others humans time to escape yet so far Sam hadn't even emerged from the old church.

The other Autobots being here now would undoubtedly even out the odds. Until they arrived Bumblebee was on his own…and more determined than ever to make the most of the coming fight. He had his work cut out for him, there was no doubt about that.

"Let's quit wasting time," Starscream barked angrily, "I say we kill this Autobot here and now!"

Before Megatron could say anything Starscream had fired a volley of about three missiles towards Bumblebee. The missiles were of the energy based variety and glowed a blue colour, leaving behind smoking grey contrails as they zoomed through the air. Bumblebee had been ready for something like this and reacted immediately.

In one fluid motion he had dived to his left, somersaulting as the trio of missiles zoomed through the air where he had been standing only seconds earlier. The three missiles slammed into the pavement, sending up columns of dirt and chunks of cement as they exploded. Each explosion sounded loudly throughout the street only to be drowned out by a sudden and loud crack of thunder. The lightning flash that came with it cast a blinding blue-white light upon the street for about a second before it was gone, the eerie shadows it had created disappearing almost as soon as they had appeared.

Bumblebee came up from his somersault standing and swivelled around where he stood, pointing his chain-gun towards Starscream and letting loose with a continuous stream of high-powered rounds that pounded into the torso of the Decepticon. The chain-gun made a loud and easily identified and repeating _tak-tak-tak_ sound as it spewed rounds forth from the end of its barrel, each bullet punching slight holes in the armour on Starscream's front.

Starscream stumbled backwards under the withering fire and within seconds he had jumped off the ground, folding himself back into his jet fighter form (an F-22 Raptor) before roaring off into the sky. No doubt he would be back after a moment or two, Bumblebee knew this much.

When Starscream had gone Bumblebee began to shift his aim towards Megatron, keeping the trigger on his chain-gun pulled as he did so. Rounds blew chunks from the front of a suburban house with an overgrown front garden across the street, chunks of masonry exploding forth from the short brick wall out the front of the house. The windscreen of the car parked in the driveway shattered inwards, glass tinkling down onto the dashboard and seats. A tall tree with a thick trunk was out the front of the house and received several rounds into the trunk, splinters of wood exploding outwards as the high-powered rounds impacted into it.

Megatron side-stepped Bumblebee's withering chain-gun fire. Before the Autobot had a chance to adjust his aim, Megatron had brought up his own weapon. The energy cannon fired rapidly, spewing blast after blast of blue energy forth from its glowing barrel at a machine gun pace.

Two of the rounds slammed into the left of Bumblebee's chest area, the force of the shots sending him flying backwards. He smashed through the brick wall that was out the front of the church, crushing a whole section as chunks of bricks tumbled away from underneath him.

Burning pain erupted from where he had taken the shots to the chest yet it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He quickly rose to his feet, managing a glance to his right. He saw that Sam and the human priest had come out of the church and had raced for cover when the shooting had started.

Sam was yelling at him, something that wasn't surprising for the Autobot to hear. He could hear what Sam was saying all too clearly and the words echoed throughout his mind as he got back up onto his feet.

"Come on, Bumblebee! Get up! Don't let him keep you down! Come on, kick his ass!"

Megatron fired another volley of energy blasts but Bumblebee reacted too quickly for the Decepticon this time, diving to one side. The volley of blasts slammed into the front of the church and blew a large chunk of it away in a blue-white energy explosion, bricks and mortar falling down while the windows nearest the impact zone smashed.

Bumblebee landed on the pavement and slid across the rain slicked surface a short distance. As he slid he brought up his chain-gun and started firing again, pummelling Megatron with round after round. They seemed to do little against him though and Megatron simply returned fire, ignoring the holes that were torn into his armour in place. Megatron looked angry to say the least and he seemed quite determined to put a stop to the actions of the annoying Autobot.

Blasts of blue energy pounded into the ground near Bumblebee as he came to a stop a short distance away. Chunks of tarmac flew into his face as he stood up, keeping the trigger on his chain gun pulled as he stood up.

He heard the familiar roar of a jet engine and realized that Starscream was coming in for a strafing run. He turned to the right and saw the jet covered with the alien tattoos flying towards him while in line with where he was standing. Bumblebee turned around and quickly switched his weapon from its chain-gun mode to its rocket launcher mode. It took only a second for his systems to acquire a target-lock and he fired, a trio of missiles flying forth from the launcher that was now his right arm.

At the same time Starscream fired a pair of missiles which shot towards Bumblebee. The trio of rockets delivered by the Autobot hit Starscream head-on and knocked him off course. He went spiralling out of control before he reverted into his robot form, landing with a loud _thump!_ on a parked car across the street. The car was flattened beneath Starscream, its alarm sounding and its windows smashing.

The pair of missiles that Starscream had launched hit the ground in front of Bumblebee. The force of both explosions propelled him backwards, sending him flying a short distance before he knocked down a power-pole and came to a painful landing near it. The powerlines above snapped and sparks flew as the power pole fell, tumbling onto the road nearby. The cables continued to spark and dance crazily with loose electric energy, providing a hazard for anyone who might be driving on that road today.

Bumblebee gathered his senses once again and stood up although this time he was noticeably groggy. His front was covered with scorch marks and more than a few dents while two large sparking holes were at the left of his chest.

Both Megatron and Starscream started towards Bumblebee, their expressions that of someone who was determined to finish off their opponent no matter what. Bumblebee brought out his blade from his right arm, preparing for the inevitable duel.

Megatron's right arm changed into that of a jagged and slightly curved blade, one that would have little trouble in cutting Bumblebee in two. Starscream's blade wasn't as intimidating but was just as jagged and razor sharp, its serrated edges glinting in a flash of lightning from above. Nearby, Sam Witwicky was yelling, his voice filled with a frustrated urgency for he could do little to help his Autobot friend.

"Come on, Bee! You can get them both!"

Bumblebee prepared for the onslaught of sword strikes that would be coming his way. He was still filled with that calm serenity he had had since the beginning of the battle…except that now there was something else: doubt.

* * *

Jones Marshall remained crouched behind the short stone wall behind one of the garden beds out the front of the church, watching the battle unfold with wide eyes. Behind him stood Sam and Father James Turner and all three had been observing the fight. All of them knew that they could do little in the way of intervening but Sam was still determined to try anyway. He wasn't about to watch one of his closest friends and Autobot guardian by thrashed by two of the meaner Decepticons in existence.

Upon seeing the three robots fighting James had been amazed but this amazement had gone quickly. Now he simply had a concerned look on his face, unsure of just what to do. Tucked under his left arm was the alien device which was partially wrapped in old blanket. He had taken out an old looking Colt 1911 pistol and was gripping the weapon in his right hand.

A priest with a gun? Sam had only managed a second glance at this before shifting his attention onto the battle. It was quite obvious that James was no ordinary priest. Besides, what was wrong with carrying a little protection anyway?

Jones had noticed the gun and had managed a wide eyed gaze towards the priest, shaking his head.  
"You have a gun? But I thought priests were supposed to be peaceful guys…"

"Someone can never be too careful when it comes to their own safety," James replied, "although I don't think this gun's going to be much good in this fight…"

"Yeah, I figured that," Jones interrupted, his voice laced with scorn, "that gun looks old…Weren't they using that sort of pistol back in World War Two? I would know, I've played _Call of Duty_…"

James ignored the question, watching as Bumblebee was set upon by both Decepticons in melee combat. Sam watched anxiously, unable to watch yet unable to turn away. In fact he had no idea of what he should do yet he knew that Bumblebee would be overpowered. The Autobot needed help yet Smokescreen, Depthcharge nor Deadeye had showed up.

_Where were they?_ Sam looked around, hoping that the other Autobots would arrive then and there. They didn't and Bumblebee was left to fight both Megatron and Starscream, deflecting their sword blows whilst delivering some of his own. It was the sort of duel that went back and forth with no participant gaining the upper hand. Still Sam yelled what encouragement he could, even if it did sound a little forced.

"Listen, Sam," James said from behind, his voice stern, "we have to go. If those two big guys are after the artefact then that means they'll come after us once they're done with your friend. My car's around the side of the church…if we leave now we should be able to make some good distance before they finish with your friend…"

"No…we're not leaving!" Sam heard himself yelling this more on sudden impulse than anything else. He glanced over at James and saw the confused look on his face. The priest had no idea of the bond that Sam and Bumblebee shared and how neither of them would abandon the other.

Sam wasn't just about to leave his Autobot guardian to an uncertain fate at the hands of the two Decepticons. Besides, if Megatron was after the artefact then he would simply come after them once Bumblebee was down. No, they had to make their stand here if they were going to have any chance of keeping the artefact or device or whatever one wanted to call it from the hands of the Decepticons.

They had to intervene in order to get the heat off of Bumblebee a little. So far Bumblebee had taken a fair beating yet was still fighting, getting up each time he was knocked over. A few parked cars ended up flattened from falls he took and the wall that ran around most of the perimeter of the church save for the front driveway ended up with chunks missing from the fighting. Bumblebee was knocked down again, being sent flying a short distance before landing on a garden bed nearby. It was flattened underneath him by his weight and his back ended up covered in mud.

Sam saw that Megatron was pacing towards him, his right arm changed into a jagged and partially curved blade. It had been the blade that Sam had witnessed kill Optimus the year before in a similar situation. Sam wasn't about to let history repeat itself with Bumblebee instead of Optimus.

He turned around, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest. He saw that James had begun to back away, watching the fight with great interest yet the direction his feet were taking him implied that he really wanted to leave. Jones was still crouched behind the wall around the garden bed and hadn't moved, a look of abject terror on his face.

"We have to go!" James shouted, his gaze meeting with Sam's, "Can't you see he's trying to buy us time to escape? There's no reason for us to stay here!"

James was of course referring to Bumblebee. No way was Sam going to leave his friend at a time like this. With a sudden lunge he had grabbed James' right hand and managed to snatch the Colt pistol from the surprised priest's grip.

James remained standing still for a moment, looking at his now empty right hand with a stunned expression. At the same time Sam had gripped the somewhat heavy pistol in both hands and turned around, taking aim at Megatron. Desperation flowed through him as he watched the Decepticon advance on his fallen friend, knowing that he couldn't just stand by and watch Bumblebee die.

Sam had never fired a gun once in his life. He had seen plenty of movies and had played plenty of video games that featured guns so he did have a basic idea of how they worked. Then again, who didn't? Wasn't it as simple as pointing and pulling the trigger?

He pulled the trigger, relieved to find that the safety was off. He had almost been certain that it had been on and that he would simply look like an idiot trying to shoot a gun that wouldn't fire. The pistol buckled backwards in his grip and the smell of gun-smoke met Sam's nostrils. The sound was an almost rough metal hole-puncher-through-cardboard sound. The barrel flashed briefly and something small pinged off of Megatron's side, doing no damage whatsoever. The Decepticon would have ignored this entirely, except that instead he was only inclined to turn around and look towards the human when Sam had begun shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Hey, ugly! Yeah, I'm talking to you!"

Megatron paused in his advance on the dazed and fallen Bumblebee. Starscream continued on to the fallen Autobot, intent at finishing him off. Bumblebee seized on the brief distraction and jumped back up onto his feet, deflecting the blade that Starscream swung his way. The Autobot went on to engage Starscream in a sword duel while Megatron began advancing towards Sam, a metallic smile appearing at his mouth. A set of jagged metal teeth were beared with pleasure as he recognized Sam.

Sam felt a sudden wave of fear wash through him and froze. It seemed that he had succeeded in shifting Megatron's attention away from Bumblebee but had now put himself in jeopardy as a result. Sam started shooting the Colt pistol, firing shot after shot towards the approaching Decepticon. Each round simply ricocheted off of Megatron's armoured frame.

"Shit…" Sam muttered when the pistol clicked on empty. He managed a quick glance back at James and saw that the priest had turned around and started to run. Jones was getting up and was in the process of doing the same.

"I knew you couldn't be far, boy!" Megatron barked, his voice laced with considerable satisfaction. "When I saw Bumblebee I knew that you would be near! You two are almost inseparable…However, I intend to change that today by killing you both! Don't expect a merciful death after all that you have done…"

Megatron stopped suddenly. Behind him Starscream and Bumblebee continued to duke it out with one another on the water slicked road. The rain still fell at a steady pace, thunder rumbling from up high. However, amongst the sound of falling rain and thunder was something more distinct. It was the roar of a jet engine, there was no doubt to that.

Sam looked up and watched as what was a most obviously alien jet flew into view, swooping in low over the road. Within seconds it had unfolded from itself, changing into its full robot form. Sam managed a startled gasp when he saw the Decepticon that emerged from the jet fighter mode since he was certainly no Decepticon he had seen before. He was perhaps slightly taller than Megatron and much darker in colour. Were Megatron was grey the new arrival was black. His malevolent red eyes scanned the area around him and his gaze fell upon Megatron.

"Damn it Megatron, forget the boy!" The new arrival barked angrily, "the other human is fleeing with the device!"

He glanced over at Starscream and Bumblebee who were still fighting. He seemed to smile, thinking of what he could do to the Autobot.

"And you can't even take out a single Autobot weakling!" The new arrival scoffed loudly much to Megatron's annoyance. "No wonder you were no match for me during the war…"

Sam reckoned that the new arrival was Centurion. Who else could it be, especially when he was talking like that to Megatron? The dislike of the new arrival was evident in the way Megatron creased up his metallic features, trying his best to stop himself from lashing out at Centurion in sheer rage.

"Sam!" A familiar voice shouted from somewhere behind him. In his somewhat terrified state Sam turned around, unsure of just what to do against these insurmountable odds. What about Bumblebee? What would happen to him?

"Sam, let's go!" James shouted at him, "We have to leave—"

A blue-white explosion of energy erupted behind the priest. He was sent flying forwards as the explosion blossomed out across the front driveway of the church, sending a column of dirt and debris flying. Part of the church was blown away by the shockwave that was released from the explosion, effectively demolishing the front of the structure. This shockwave hit Sam directly and propelled him off of his feet, sending him flying through the air and knocking the wind out of him. A second later and he painfully landed on the front of a parked car, the windscreen cracking beneath him as he struggled to regain his breath after being winded.

Lying dazed there for a moment or two with his back aching considerably, Sam managed to catch a glimpse of Centurion. Centurion's right arm wielded a large energy cannon and a look of amusement had crossed the Decepticon's metallic features. A smoking black crater was now out the front of the church while one corner of the church had been completely blasted away, leaving a gaping and uneven hole in the structure. James lay nearby, only just beginning to move. One arm went for the artefact which lay just out of his arm's reach but he was in no real state at the moment to get up and run for the artefact.

Sam could see Centurion approaching, the Decepticon's gaze set on the artefact. Megatron had started for Sam again while Starscream was still fighting with Bumblebee. With some pain Sam stepped off of the front of the parked car, feeling aches all over from the fall he had suffered. His shirt was torn and burnt in places while a cut above one eyebrow dribbled blood. He could feel a broken rib or two and they ached profoundly with each breath he took.

It was then that he figured that making a run for it would be in his best interests. Still, he kept his gaze on the duel between Bumblebee and Starscream even as Megatron continued to walk towards him. He wasn't going to let his Autobot guardian die in vain…

* * *

Bumblebee barely paid Centurion's arrival any notice. Instead, he kept his concentration on Starscream who was delivering the sword swings with a ruthless ferocity, one that displayed very little thought for his own safety. Bumblebee took advantage of Starscream's hurried and careless attacks, deflecting one that scraped by Bumblebee's chest by mere centimetres.

With a fluid movement Bumblebee knocked aside Starscream's sword arm only briefly. Seizing upon this chance he followed through with another much more sweeping movement, one that sent his blade slicing across Starscream's chest. Glowing liquid energon oozed out of the deep gash as well as trickles of molten metal. Starscream roared in agony as Bumblebee's blade left his body and the Decepticon stumbled back a few paces, both surprised and angered that he had been bested by an apparently weaker opponent.

Bumblebee seized his chance to finish Starscream off, making a careful lunge towards the stunned Decepticon in order to impale him on his blade. However, Starscream recovered much more quickly from his wounds than Bumblebee could have anticipated. Starscream's blade came up as he side-stepped Bumblebee's lunge, bringing his blade onto the Autobot's sword arm in a carefully planned motion.

There was a sudden shot of excruciating and burning pain. Bumblebee's sword arm was severed at the elbow, the severed part clanking onto the ground underneath. Bumblebee stumbled, taken by surprise. He emitted a pained metallic sounding moan, making sure to dodge Starscream's finishing move that the Decepticon delivered a few seconds later.

Within seconds Bumblebee switched his left arm to its weapon mode, bringing out a back-up chain-gun. He swivelled where he stood and opened fire, spraying the high-powered rounds straight into Starscream's face. The Decepticon roared, clutching at his wounded features as he stumbled backwards and opened himself up for more attacks. With some satisfaction Bumblebee noted that he had taken out Starscream's left eye and the half of his face underneath, a seam of glowing energon visible in the mess that had been created.

And so Bumblebee prepared the finishing move, pressing the chain-gun against the side of Starscream's head. All he had to do was pull the trigger before the Decepticon recovered…

* * *

James Turner felt a burning sensation all across his back as he came to, dazed from having been knocked aside by the explosion. It took only a few seconds for him to realize that he no longer clutched the artefact. He looked up from where he lay face down on the water slicked road, rain dribbling into his eyes as he did so. The artefact lay a couple of metres ahead of him, its ridges glowing brightly. The blanket it had been wrapped in lay as a soggy bundle near it.

He started to crawl towards it. As far as he could tell he hadn't broken any bones but he was in a heck of a lot of pain, especially at his legs. He was certainly too old for this sort of thing.

That was when he heard the clanking, heavy footfalls of one of the metal beasts from behind. He rolled onto his back, watching as the recently arrived Decepticon that he had assumed was Centurion (and had been correct in that assumption) stepped over him, briefly casting a dark and ominous shadow over him. Centurion stopped just before the artefact and carefully bent down to pick it up, rain dribbling off of his metal frame.

James watched this with some dismay. Wasn't the whole point of this to keep Centurion from getting the artefact? If so they had just failed in doing this. In fact, this whole battle was going badly. It was as if they were _destined_ to fail.

With a smile Centurion slid the artefact into its appropriate place at his back, extending the pointed ends so they locked it into place. Immediately a shimmering blue-white field of energy enveloped his frame, leaving short-lived scorch marks on James' vision as he watched.

Once the power of the device flowed through Centurion he turned around, oblivious to the presence of the human near his feet. Instead, Centurion turned his attention towards the Autobot that seemed to be winning in a duel against Starscream. No doubt that an intervention was needed and quickly: Centurion had plans for Starscream. In fact, he had plans for all the Decepticons and Autobots here on Earth. _He had immense plans…_

* * *

"Can't we just talk about this?" Sam croaked this question rather weakly, stepping further back onto the road as Megatron stopped before him. His tall and imposing size cast a shadow over Sam, sending fear flowing through the young human.

"There is nothing to talk about, boy," Megatron said, his voice carrying an undertone of the immense hatred he felt of the human before him, "But there is plenty to do. Oh, yes…plenty. Not only will your death be slow but it will be painful, more painful than you could ever have believed possible…"  
Sam didn't like the sound of this. He managed a grimace as his neck throbbed considerably, a result of the painful landing he had made on the front of a parked car only seconds earlier.

"Look, I can understand that you're upset, what with me screwing with your plans a few times…" He was about to continue when from the corner of his vision he caught sight of the duel between Bumblebee and Starscream. For a moment it seemed that Bumblebee was about to finish off the Decepticon…

And then Centurion was behind the Autobot, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Centurion had his right arm changed into its sword form and the jagged blade glistened as rain fell upon it. He was about to catch Bumblebee by surprise.

Sam was running now, ignoring Megatron's annoyed grunt as he swept one open hand in the general direction of the young human. His grasp missed Sam by inches, allowing him to continue on racing towards Bumblebee and the perilous situation the Autobot was in. Sam was shouting, telling Bumblebee of the danger behind him.

_Turn around, damn it! Turn around! TURN AROUND!_

* * *

Bumblebee saw Sam running towards him. He also noticed that Centurion was no longer in view. Still, Starscream was about to receive a finishing move so Bumblebee couldn't really pass up on this chance to be rid of one of the main Decepticons for good. He was about to blow Starscream's head off, after all.

"Turn around, Bee! He's behind you!" The urgency in Sam's tone was clear and profound. Bumblebee was in great danger.

The Autobot turned around, having gotten the gist of the boy's message. He found that Centurion was indeed behind him, a malevolent grin on his dark metallic features. No doubt Centurion would enjoy this.

Bumblebee went to deflect the jagged blade on Centurion's right arm but was too slow. The blade went cut straight into Bumblebee's chest and a wave of excruciating pain flowed throughout him. Bumblebee emitted a loud metallic moan, one that only made Centurion's smile grow.

The blade came out of Bumblebee's back and traces of energon oozed off of it and from around where it had cut into the Autobot's body. The pain was exquisite (in a bad way) and Bumblebee felt that his entire form was taken up with it, as if the shimmering blue haze that enveloped Centurion's sword was burning him from within.

Centurion brought the sword up with a sudden and abrupt movement, carving it further through Bumblebee's form as he did so. The Autobot emitted a metallic squeal, one filled with the pure agony he was in. The blade sliced up into the base of Bumblebee's neck and for a moment Centurion simply left the Autobot impaled on his sword, the smile on his metallic face all the more pleased. Bumblebee's strength began to ebb away and lines crossed his vision, his visual readouts growing hazy. Even Centurion was beginning to look blurry.

He lifted Bumblebee with his sword, seeing that the Autobot was still alive. Bumblebee was fighting for every last bit of life he could muster, trying to bring up his left arm with its chain-gun but finding that it wasn't responding to the commands his mind was sending it. His left arm remained limp and motionless as did his legs and the remains of his right arm. He wanted to move his limbs but couldn't. The pain was there instead, burning throughout his insides as Centurion kept the blade in place.

"Such a waste of energon!" Centurion declared happily.

The last of Bumblebee's strength faded. The glow in his bright blue eyes died. Centurion used one foot to kick the lifeless and mangled form of the Autobot off of his sword, watching as the body clanked loudly onto the ground below.

From somewhere behind, Sam Witwicky stood with wide eyes and mouth agape.

"Bumblebee! _BUMBLEBEE!_"


	39. The Secretary of Defense

**The Secretary of Defence  
**Diego Garcia  
December 16th, 2010

The main control hub for NEST was located within a large hangar in the Diego Garcia island base. The large main view-screen at the front of this control centre currently displayed a three dimensional image of the Earth while several different coloured markers had been placed on specific regions of the planet. Each different colour represented a different situation for NEST, from the yellow markers that represented mission sites to the red markers that represented confirmed Decepticon encounters. There were a few of these red markers on the United States, specifically in Nevada and Arizona.

General Morshower stood in the centre of the control room, surrounded by technicians seated at banks of computers and communications equipment. A phone on a nearby desk was ringing yet Morshower did little in the way of picking it up. He knew who it was and he knew that merely delaying the talk would just get him in trouble. Still, there were things that had been discovered recently which changed the game for everyone.

There was something happening in the Arizona desert. Reports indicated that a group of Decepticons were assaulting a military base there. This was worrisome enough as it was but there was an added urgency to the situation: the military base that was under attack was where the Matrix of Leadership was stored. No doubt the Decepticons were after it and it seemed that they were close to succeeding.

The attack had come suddenly and NEST could do little else but wait for the worse to happen. By the time they sent somebody out there the attack could very well be over and the Decepticons gone. Morshower could only hope that the defenders at the base could hold off the attack and keep the Matrix of Leadership from falling into Decepticon hands.

Another urgent occurrence was the apparent attack on Tranquility, Nevada. So far they had received barely any information about the attack except that it was taking place in a northern section of the town and that Smokescreen and Depthcharge were on their way to the scene. It would be a while before they received anymore information concerning the battle so until then all NEST could do was wait.

The most urgent matter of all was what had been discovered in Austria. If their guesses were correct (which they most probably were) then a certain artefact in storage at the Hofburg Imperial Palace in Vienna had been stolen. Lennox, Epps and Graham had managed to capture one of the thieves, a twenty-nine year old man who had been outfitted in combat gear. The interrogation of this prisoner had revealed that there was a human organization that had been in operation since Sector Seven's disbandment and that this organization (calling itself "Sector Eight" as a sort of joke) had been reverse-engineering captured alien technology for the past three or four years. They were lead by a man called Colonel Francis Weller, an ex-Sector Seven agent who had obviously gotten himself a new job in a similar line of work.

According to the captured prisoner the Holy Lance was in fact an ancient Cybertronian artefact, one that Weller believed had some sort of special powers. There was no doubt in Morshower's mind that Colonel Weller was a dangerous man who would have to be apprehended since he and his team of commandoes had murdered several of the guards at the palace. Of course, there was no proof of this and thus there was no way that NEST could have exposed Weller and his operation.

Weller and his team had used some sort of EMP emitter that had disabled everything electronic within a certain radius, including surveillance cameras and alarm systems. This EMP emitter device was no doubt reverse-engineered from alien technology. Weller had left it behind in his hurry to escape and so the device was currently being researched in one of the laboratory's here on Diego Garcia.

It seemed that Weller hadn't been the only one after the Holy Lance. The Decepticon known as "Centurion" had been in Vienna at about the same time, attacking the Hofburg Imperial Palace as if he had been searching for something. No doubt he had been after the Holy Lance as well…

This simply created a lot of questions and very few answers. How did Weller know about the Holy Lance? What sort of other advanced technology did this "Sector Eight" organization have? And what powers did the Holy Lance have? No doubt there was something important about it since Morshower doubted that a Decepticon would waste its time going to Vienna simply for sight-seeing.

He glanced up at the main view-screen, taking a few moments to consider all that had happened. The Dutch had obviously found Centurion in a state of hibernation, only for the Decepticon to wake up and slaughter all the scientists and military personnel that had been in the vicinity. Apparently Centurion had been found in the Arnhem River but how on Earth could he have ended up there? There wasn't exactly a lot at the bottom of a river like that and it shouldn't have taken centuries for someone to find the Decepticon. Something didn't add up, this much was obvious.

Now Centurion was on the loose and was after the Holy Lance. He had at first been seen as unstoppable, protected by some sort of energy shield. However, Optimus Prime had managed to wound him during a confrontation in Vienna which hinted that maybe Centurion wasn't so tough after all. Still, he had managed to kill Ironhide which did mean that they were up against a tough opponent.

According to Ratchet, Jolt was acting a bit odd. This much was to be expected after what he went through so Morshower wasn't too concerned about this. Besides, no one knew what had happened between Jolt and Centurion so the best they could do was forget about it and get on with their work.

There were Decepticons in Arizona…in Nevada…and there was apparently some hanging around the Western seaboard of the United States. Whatever they were doing over there was unknown but Morshower was planning on sending someone to check it out, probably Breakaway since he could just fly himself over there.

The phone continued to ring. One of the technicians at the table glanced over at the General, frowning.

"Sir, don't you think you should pick that up?" He asked.

Morshower nodded but he was still in the process of trying to work out how to explain the situation. Things were slowly spiralling out of control, not only because of Centurion and the Decepticon incursions but because there was a hostile and rogue human organization getting involved as well.

"Yes, I will in a minute," Morshower replied, "the Secretary can wait though. There's a lot on my plate at the moment."

The technician simply nodded and returned back to what he had been ding, leaving Morshower to ponder on what he would say for a little while longer. The Secretary of Defence was responsible for the defence of the United States of America. Understandably he would like to have some idea of just what was going on when it came to their current situation and the Decepticon incursions on United States turf.

The Secretary of Defence was often impossible to work with. He was probably like that because of the pressure of his job and the fact that he had a whole nation's safety set upon his shoulders. It was a weighty prospect and one that the Secretary of Defence would have to get used to.

Secretary of Defence Jon Keller had been in his position since 2006. He had been the one to disband Sector Seven after the battle at Mission City and he had been the one to organize NEST in the first place. He had even been at Hoover Dam when Megatron had broken out of cryogenic suspension and Keller had inadvertently been forced to hold off against attacks from the Decepticon Frenzy with some other people. He was a tough man, Jon Keller. Some would say that he was the true leader of the United States and that the President was simply a public relations thing. This was perhaps far from the truth but the Secretary of Defence was a quite powerful position and had numerous responsibilities.

Morshower was usually a stern no-nonsense man but when it came to speaking with the Secretary of Defence he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He felt like this especially now, since NEST was beginning to fall into disarray with the arrival of new enemies and the attacks on Arizona and Nevada.

Morshower gathered his nerves and picked up the phone. There was a short pause before Jon Keller's stern and slightly Texas (or Nebraska) accented voice came through the line. He was sounding as serious as he always did and seemed to be one of those types who lacked what one would call a "sense of humour".

"_General Morshower, you took your time picking up,"_ Keller commented, _"I was beginning to think you didn't want to talk to me…"_

"It's not that, sir," General Morshower replied, "it's just that I've had a lot on my plate recently. I'm sure you've read the reports you've been sent..."

"_All of which are very interesting, General. However, you have to understand what it's like in my position: I have to help maintain the secrecy of NEST and cover-up any stuff-ups you and your Autobots make. Imagine how I felt when I discovered that dozens of Dutch military personnel had seen the Autobots and had reported these sightings to their superiors? Imagine how I felt when I discovered the amount of collateral damage your teams and the Autobots caused in the city of Groningen?_

"_It's worse than Shanghai and Egypt, General. More people died in Groningen then in both Shanghai and Egypt combined. Understand that I know how hard it can get in an organization like yours. It's hard to keep the veil of secrecy up, especially when instead of soldiers you have giant robots fighting each other in public places. I know that NEST has done a lot for this country and for the human race in general but others amongst the Chiefs of Staff don't see it the way I do. They want to close you down, General. They think you're organization is causing more harm than good. Looking at these mission reports I can't help but agree._

"_I'm sure you remember Theodore Galloway?"_ Keller asked, his tone still stern and straight to business.

Morshower remembered Galloway all too well. He had tried shutting NEST down last year before the battle in Egypt. After that he had had very little to do with NEST, as if he had either been deterred from interfering again or had had other things to do.

"I remember him, sir," Morshower replied with some noticeable dislike in his voice, "can I speak freely sir?"

"_Go ahead."_

"Galloway was a prick, sir."

There was a pause and Morshower had the moment's thought that he might have pissed off the Secretary of Defence. However, this was disproven when he heard a slight cough on the other end of the line seconds before Jon Keller started talking again. He didn't seem to care much abut what Morshower thought about Galloway. Why would he?

_"Prick or not, it seems that it wasn't just him who wanted you shut down. He was what you might call the 'errand boy' for some other very powerful people, General. Some documents were recently uncovered which have linked him to the organization known as 'Sector Eight'. He was in league with them and one reason he was sent to close you down was so that NEST would no longer be in Sector Eight's way and thus they could control all alien assets on this planet."_

Morshower was surprised to hear this. Then again he had found that there had been something fishy about that Galloway guy. If Galloway was linked to Sector Eight then this organization had more power than he had originally suspected.

"_I would like to make it clear to you that I was as unaware of the existence of Sector Eight as you were, General. They are a rogue faction, one that has obviously splintered from Sector Seven. I and my advisors are unaware of just how many people work for them but we do know that they are funded by benefactors high-up within this country's government. I have started an investigation into uncovering these benefactors but until any conclusive results arise it seems that Sector Eight will remain in operation._

"_Galloway has disappeared and we think that it may have something to do with his ties to Sector Eight. If you or anyone in NEST finds out his whereabouts, relay them to me and I'll send someone out to arrest him. Everyone involved with Sector Eight can, with sufficient proof, be charged with high treason. This, General, brings me to my next matter."_

Morshower listened carefully as the Secretary of Defence continued. There was the sound of a set of papers ruffling as the Secretary of Defence rifled through the documents scattered across his desk. Morshower could see him now, speaking into the phone on his desk as he sorted through the top secret mission files of NEST that were piled on his desk. Jon Keller had made several good points and had suitably surprised Morshower when it came to revealing Galloway's ties to this Sector Eight organization.

"_I understand that on a recent operation in Vienna some of your men encountered a group of Sector Eight commandoes who had been in the process of escaping with one of the treasures stored within the palace treasury, am I correct?"_

"Yes sir, that's correct. Major Lennox, Sergeant Epps and Captain Graham were the ones who encountered them. I understand you know these men, sir?"

_"Yes, I do General. Three of your best and most competent soldiers, as you've mentioned numerous times in your reports. However, I'm not calling to agree with you General. There are urgent matters that we must discuss, including the emergence of the Sector Eight organization. For the last twelve hours I've had some of my people scouring for records of this organization and of the man leading it."_

"Colonel Weller, sir," Morshower said, "the Sector Eight soldier we captured revealed that the organization is being lead by Francis Weller. I personally haven't heard of him…"

There was a pause and what sounded like a sigh on the other end of the line. The Secretary of Defence sounded concerned, as if this bothered him. Well, of course it bothered him since Sector Eight would just be another risk to national security. There were already enough of those already.

"_I have heard of him, General. He worked for Sector Seven and was at Hoover Dam when NBE-1 escaped. He also took part in the battle in Mission City. I believe that by disbanding Sector Seven I may have inadvertently made things the way they are by now concerning the rise of Sector Eight. Colonel Weller was a competent soldier, one who followed every order he received to the letter. He was also ruthless, cold and calculating._

"_He was up for a psyche-evaluation around-about when NBE-1 escaped. Some of his fellow agents had begun to feel that he was slowly losing his mind, drifting further and further into insanity. By disbanding Sector Seven and denying him a job it seems that he managed to find his way into running the rogue faction he has now jokingly called 'Sector Eight'. General, I want to make it clear to you that this man is dangerous and has at his disposal the resources to take NEST on in open warfare. What I'm concerned about is that he is now growing in confidence as he develops more and more in the line of advanced weaponry._

"_In the reports Lennox, Epps and Graham made about the encounter in Vienna they mention an advanced sort of rifle that Weller was wielding. There is no doubt in my mind that over the last three to four years since Sector Seven's disbandment that Sector Eight has managed to continue the advanced weapons research. I have documents relating to weapons research done by NEST researchers and it seems that some of them have been in league with Sector Eight for a few years. Those scientists will be dealt with appropriately but there is no telling how much advanced weaponry Sector Eight has."_

"Advanced weaponry?" Morshower frowned. "What sort of advanced weaponry are we talking about?"

Secretary of Defence Jon Keller didn't hesitate to reply, shuffling more papers as he tried to locate the appropriate documents.

"_Rail guns, coil guns, mass drivers…To the public these weapons are mere theories but in actual fact many have been constructed using alien technology. However, many of these weapons are still in the early stages of development. The only working rail gun is on a destroyer in the Navy while the coil gun principle is still being worked on. However, it is safe to assume that Sector Eight has had the time and the resources to complete these advanced weapons. I also believe that Sector Eight is responsible for stealing the remains of the Autobot known as 'Jazz' as well as several deceased Decepticons from the battle in Egypt. No doubt that these finds have helped their advanced weapons programs immensely."_

In all, Sector Eight would prove to be a tough adversary. Morshower looked towards the main view-screen, awaiting word about the sightings in Nevada and Arizona. So far none had come for the last hour, something that only concerned him.

"_There are a few other things as well, such as this Decepticon that calls itself 'Centurion'. In your reports it's made quite clear that Centurion is near unstoppable, unharmed by conventional weaponry. What do you make of these claims, General?"_

"Centurion is a tough adversary, sir," Morshower replied, "he killed the Autobot Ironhide…"

_"What of the return of Megatron, General? What do you make of that? Is it a sign that these aliens have finally decided to make a comeback after a year of inaction?"_

Morshower could tell from Keller's tone that he was greatly concerned. There was no telling what an unstoppable enemy like that could do in a populated zone, hence Keller's concern. He was the Secretary of Defence and it was his job to ensure the safety of the United States.

"I'm not sure sir," Morshower admitted. No one seemed to have much of an idea about just why the Decepticons were making incursions but it might have had something to do with Centurion. Apparently the Autobots had believed Centurion to be dead but his return and appearance on Earth only disproved that.

"_These reports say that Centurion may have been after the Holy Lance in Vienna, as Weller and his team were. I suspect, as you most probably do that these things are linked. Centurion's apparent 'return from death' is probably the catalyst that started the ball rolling, pardon the cliché. What I want to know is what is so special about the Holy Lance? Isn't it the one that was apparently the spear that pierced the side of Christ in the Bible?"_

"I think so sir, but no one can be sure if it's the right spear," Morshower replied, "I was never much of a Bible reader."

_"What would a Decepticon want with such an item? That's what I want to know and what I want you to find out for me. As soon as Weller resurfaces anywhere I want your men on the scene immediately. We must apprehend him and discover why he took the Holy Lance. As you can understand, the Austrians are very upset about the theft. Parts of their palace were destroyed in the attack by Centurion and several of the guards are dead. They know that us Americans were involved they just aren't too sure how. Thus, diplomatic relations with the Austrians are going to be somewhat shaky for a while. Again this sort of thing only makes covering up the actions of NEST difficult. Too many people saw Optimus, Ratchet and Sideswipe in their full robot forms during what happened in Vienna. I want you to ensure me that this sort of exposure won't happen again, is that understood?"_

"Understood sir," Morshower replied.

Unfortunately he doubted he could live up to this promise. Too many times did the missions NEST went on required the Autobots to switch to their full robot forms while witnessed by many civilians. The cover story of rogue prototype military robot drones was beginning to wear thin as more and more people began to wise up to it. There were websites all over the internet that detailed the cover ups the government enacted when it came to these events. It was just up to the visitors to these websites to decide if they were to believe the information or not.

"_I am aware of the undergoing attacks on Nevada and Arizona. If I am not mistaken, Tranquility, Nevada is where the Witwicky boy lives. Do you think that the attack there may have something to do with him? Perhaps some sort of Decepticon vengeance attack?"_

Morshower nodded despite the fact that the Secretary of Defence couldn't see him (they were talking over a phone, after all).

"That's most likely the case, sir," Morshower said, "I dispatched two Autobots there but I can send more and some human teams if you wish…"

"_Do that, General,"_ the Secretary of Defence replied sternly, _"but try and keep a low profile. It's already hard enough covering up the attacks in Groningen and Vienna without having to worry about more."_

"Understood, sir."

_"From what I've been hearing of what's happening in Arizona, it sounds as if one of our military bases has come under attack from a large Decepticon force. Reinforcements have already been sent but I fear that they may arrive too late. The artefact known as the 'Matrix of Leadership' is being stored at the base there, am I correct?"_

"Yes sir, it's secured in an underground bunker," Morshower replied. There was no doubt in his mind or the mind of the Secretary of Defence that this was what the Decepticons were after.

"_This 'Matrix of Leadership', what exactly does it do?"_

Morshower had to think about this for a moment. He wasn't too sure himself but he managed to scrounge up some information from the forgotten and darkest recesses of his mind, relaying it to the Secretary of Defence.

"No one's too sure but it does act as a key to activate the destroyed energon harvester in Egypt. It was also able to resurrect Optimus Prime during the same battle. Other than that, no one is really sure as to what it does. It is unlike the All-spark though since it doesn't have the power to bring technology to life. Thus, we can't see why the Decepticons would want it…"

_"Regardless, I want it protected. Obviously there is more to it than we suspect, otherwise the Decepticons would not bother trying to get it."_

This made sense, as did the whole idea of the Decepticons going after the Holy Lance. Both the Holy Lance and the Matrix of Leadership would seemed quite useless but if the Decepticons were after these items then there was obviously something more to them, something the scientists were missing.

"_I'll be awaiting word from the reinforcements sent to the military base. Until then, we can only hope that the Matrix hasn't fallen into enemy hands."_

"Is there anything else you want to discuss, sir?" Morshower asked. His mind was milling through all that he had been told, finding that this amount of information was rather hard to sort through without getting confused.

"_Remember, General. Dispatch reinforcements to Tranquility. Otherwise, I've said all I needed to. Right now I have to get to a meeting with the Chiefs of Staff and the President. I'll try my best to convince them not to close down NEST but I can't make any guarantees."_

"I understand sir," Morshower replied, "thanks for defending us."

"_It's no problem, General,"_ the Secretary of Defence replied. Who that he hung up and the phone went silent save for the faint hiss of an empty line.

Morshower placed the phone back into its receiver. He had already come to the conclusion that there was a conspiracy within their own government to shut down NEST and keep Sector Eight running. No doubt there were some high-ranking people in the government who liked the whole "by any means" methods of Sector Eight to acquire alien technology. Obviously Sector Eight didn't care for the Autobots and the Decepticons, probably treating both sides in the conflict as their enemies. Some would say that Sector Eight was merely doing what it had to in order to defend the country and humanity from alien aggressors but their methods, such as killing anyone who stood in their way…Many people would disapprove of that sort of thing. Morshower knew that he disapproved.

One of the technicians seated at a bank of communications equipment suddenly looked, one hand holding one half of his headset to one ear as he turned his attention towards the General.

"Sir!" The technician exclaimed. Morshower stepped over, able to tell that whatever was happening it was damned important. The technician looked stunned, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing through the radio.

"What is it?" Morshower asked.

"There are reports of an aircraft carrier near the Western seaboard…"

"So?" Morshower frowned. An aircraft carrier? So what. As long as it was one of their own it didn't matter.

"Uh, sir…it's launching jet fighters. A lot of them. It's engaged the few cruisers that were dispatched to intercept it. If what I'm hearing is right, there's a massive naval battle going on off the coast of California. Some of the fighters…they've broken through and they're going to Nevada. Sir…what do we do? Do we send help?"

Morshower stood stunned for a moment. What the hell was going on? It seemed as if the whole country was coming under attack.

"Put what you're hearing on the speakers. I want to hear it first hand before I do anything."

The technician nodded, flicking a switch at a panel in front of him. A man's voice, sounding strangely calm yet backgrounded with distant explosions and weapons fire sounded through the speakers.

"_This is Captain Wilson of the destroyer USS _Crazy Horse. _A hostile aircraft carrier has engaged us and has launched fighters…we need reinforcements, air support…anything! We're getting the hell beaten out of us—"_

There was a loud explosion and the voice abruptly ended. The signal died and the speakers hissed unnerving static. Morshower's heart skipped a beat. What the hell could be happening?

"Get us a satellite image of what's going on over there! NOW!" He barked at the technicians around him, suddenly alert. All hell was breaking loose and yet they could do little about it. They began to work hurriedly at their panels, the main view-screen changing to a high up view of the United States.

"One of our satellites is moving into position now, sir," a technician announced, "we should be getting a visual on the coordinates in five…four…three…"

The picture on the view-screen began to zoom in onto one particular part of the West coast, near the northern part of California. It continued to zoom as one of the many satellites the United States had in orbit trained its cameras onto the West coast, zooming towards the origin of the distress call. Eventually the camera view was about a kilometre up from the ground and zoomed in some more for good measure.

Morshower's eyes went wide at what he saw. There was an aircraft carrier parked a mile off of the coast of California. Jet fighters buzzed around the carrier and streaks of weapons fire criss-crossed the sky between them. Three destroyers were nearby, one of them setting off thick plumes of dark smoke as fires burned on its upper decks. The strange thing, the one thing that unnerved Morshower was that the aircraft carrier looked like a typical _Nimitz_ class one, standard for the US Navy. If it was American then why the hell was it attacking other American ships?

Morshower was a man not easily unnerved. What he was seeing of the naval battle was capable of unnerving even him, especially when the thought struck him then and there that maybe the aircraft carrier wasn't quite an aircraft carrier. Maybe it was a…

"Can we send out our own ships? Our own aircraft?" Morshower knew this would be useless. Diego Garcia was way out in the Indian Ocean, far from the West Coast of the United States. It would take a long time for any boat or plane to get to the scene of the battle.

"There wouldn't be much point in that, sir," the technician nearest the General replied, "by the time they got there the battle could be well over."

Morshower considered his options. He wasn't about to stand by and do nothing.

"Send out Breakaway," he ordered, "he's the fastest we have. He should be able to lend a hand."

The technician nodded and began to deliver an announcement via the base's announcement system, calling Breakaway to the control centre. While this was happening Morshower stood where he was, looking at the live footage of the naval battle and simply shaking his head. Things just kept getting worse, it seemed.


	40. Bringer of Fire

**Bringer of Fire  
**Somewhere in the Arizona desert, United States  
December 16th, 2010

The sun of this world was warm, hinting at its relatively young age (for suns, which would be millions of years). The desert landscape simply intensified this heat, a heat that would have been uncomfortable to any human but was only heightened warmth to the Decepticon trudging his way across the landscape.

The Decepticon was mostly black, his joints clanking and whirring as he made his war along the rocky desert plains. Some parts of his armour plating were a light beige colour, a result of his selection of an alternate vehicle form: he had rummaged through the human internet for some time before coming across a defence forces database, finding a vehicle mode that would have suited his liking. It was a medium-sized tank, one that not only had on it a standard cannon but a flamethrower.

The Decepticon beared many long-lasting marks from past battles. Some of these scars were in fact from injuries caused by himself to himself and most of them were heat related. The Decepticon had a full and difficult to pronounce Cybertronian name, one that was near unpronounceable by human vocal chords. Thus, he had selected himself a seemingly fitting name from the plethora of information he had located on the internet: Prometheus.

Ever since he had been young he had had a strange fixation with fire. Some would call him a pyromaniac and that would be a correct enough assumption. Most of his weapons were capable of creating some sort of fire and he had often used them to excellent effect during the years of war on Cybertron.

Now he was here, on the planet Earth. He had received Centurion's message but had already been on his way to this planet, having heard Megatron's calls for other Decepticons. Prometheus had been a loyal soldier within Centurion's army during the war on Cybertron and had been forced to flee Cybertron after Centurion's apparent death. For a long time Prometheus had been stuck wandering through space until he had heard Megatron's call for Decepticons. He had at first been a bit doubtful as to the whole point of coming to this planet known as "Earth". The planet itself was ruled by a race of minor organic beings called "humans" and had apparently been the source of trouble for Megatron and his Decepticons ever since they had brought the war to this planet.

Prometheus had been considering joining up with Megatron's Decepticon forces when he had received Centurion's call. Centurion's plan was to bring back the one that they all worshipped, the one known as "Unicron". The method of bringing this God out of his outer-dimensional prison was located somewhere on Earth and Centurion apparently knew where.

About an hour ago Prometheus had landed on Earth, making contact with Centurion. He had been pleased to learn that Megatron was now being manipulated by Centurion since Prometheus hadn't been looking forward to serving under _that_ particular Decepticon. He far preferred Centurion as a leader over Megatron although he wasn't sure why. He could remember having once served in Megatron's army once before he had been captured in a skirmish with some of Centurion's forces.

Prometheus couldn't quite remember just what had happened during his capture. He had been brought before Centurion…and then what? The part of his memory which housed these events was a mere indiscernible haze. He did know that after whatever had happened he had sworn his loyalty to Centurion…and thus had served the remainder of the war on Cybertron in Centurion's army.

Prometheus, being one of Centurion's favourite soldiers had been given an important task to carry out. The remains of the Decepticon fleet-carrier _Nemesis_ were located on the moon of a gas giant within the system and on board were hundreds of unborn protoforms, all of them being maintained on the slowly diminishing life support systems of the ship. Any attempts to birth any of the protoforms out of their sacs would result in them being stillborn.

That was why Prometheus and three other Decepticons had been sent out here, to this location. The All-spark had been destroyed by the humans a few years before thus Centurion had sent them to recover something just as powerful and important: the Matrix of Leadership. With it they could use it to power the _Nemesis_ and provide more than enough energon to raise at least some of the protoforms being kept on board. Centurion intended to create himself an army and Prometheus had been given the privilege of helping him.

Trailing behind Prometheus were three other Decepticons. Prometheus hadn't bothered to talk to them so he didn't know their names. He did know that they were three that had been born on board the _Nemesis_ and thus lacked any sort of combat experience. Apparently there weren't many veteran Decepticons left after the past battles with the humans, thus Prometheus had been stuck with three comrades he would have preferred to have gone without.

As far as he knew, the Matrix of Leadership was being kept within a human bunker. That bunker was only about a kilometre away, nestled in a valley dotted with rocky outcrops and scattered desert vegetation. No doubt it would be heavily guarded by the humans but Prometheus was confident he could handle as many as were sent against him. After several decades flying through space with nowhere to go he relished the thought of finally getting some real action. He would burn every human he encountered, just to ensure he was both amused and excited during the fight. Setting things on fire had always managed to make him laugh.

There was something about the flames that intrigued him and transfixed him. The way they flickered and flared, the way they burned away certain types of matter…he couldn't help but go wild-eyed when he saw some, especially if they were big. The bigger the fire the more excitement he felt.

Within a few seconds he had formed his right arm into his primary weapon: it was a heat-based cannon, one capable of incinerating anything in the blast radius. It was his weapon of choice since not only did it create fires but it made them big ones and it made them damn hot ones at that, just the way he liked it. As he did this the three other Decepticons behind him pulled out their primary weapons as well.

The group stopped at the top of one side of the valley, looking down across the landscape spread before them. Mesas and buttes dotted the landscape at the other side of the valley while a dry riverbed carved its way in a winding path along the valley floor. A road winded its way from one side of the valley and towards the human military compound in the centre. This compound had been in existence for a few decades, having been built on top of a set of old nuclear silos that had been decommissioned at the end of the Cold War. The underground facilities that the old silos provided made excellent space to store items that the United States government would have preferred its public to not know about. The government officials would have also preferred it if their enemies didn't know about the items stored within but in regards to the Decepticons they had failed. The humans stupidly put the information detailing what they had stored here on some of their weakly protected networks. A Decepticon with the right resources could easily hack into the United States Defence Network within a minute. The humans were primitive, their technology unable to compete with that of the Cybertronian race.

Still, it seemed surprising that the Autobots would even consider allying themselves with the humans. When he had heard this bit of news, Prometheus had been suitably surprised. The Autobots were always making a big deal of how they protected the weak and fought for what they deemed was "right". Why would any self-respecting Cybertronian want anything to do with a primitive organic race? Prometheus had come to the conclusion that the Autobots were too stupid to deserve to live, thus he intended on killing any he encountered. He also intended on killing any humans that got in his way.

The military compound was large, with numerous hangars and box-shaped structures. A runway was to the left of the compound and currently a human cargo plane was just coming in to land. Its landing gears came down and skidded along the tarmac as the plane made its first contact with the ground after the beginning of its flight, a faint cloud of dust drifting up around the wheels as they paced along.

Prometheus was already thinking of how to approach this. The Matrix of Leadership was being kept within a secured facility that had been built inside one of the empty nuclear silos and thus he would need a means of getting underground. He had found on the human networks blueprints of the compound which revealed there to be numerous sets of tunnels, both old and new which connected the surface sections of the compound with the underground ones. Each was big enough to fit vehicles inside, thus Prometheus was thinking he could simply drive in as a tank and incinerate any humans in his way.

It was only a quick run down into the valley from up here. Human soldiers were milling about parts of the base, some sitting by mounted guns while a few were up in watch towers. These ground soldiers wouldn't have the firepower to harm a Decepticon such as Prometheus but he was aware of the threats the other more "heavy" human armaments presented. A tank shell could leave a nasty mark on any Decepticon so Prometheus knew he would have to watch out for human tanks. He couldn't see any, even when he used his optic systems to zoom in upon the compound and run a thorough scan.

The humans would call for help when they were attacked. From the brief calculations that Prometheus had done in his head taking into account several differing variables he had reached the conclusion that if he and his team were quick they could break in, get the Matrix of Leadership and get out long before human reinforcements arrived. There was a chance that some of those reinforcements might be Autobots, thus it was all the more important that this attack be done quickly and efficiently. If any Autobots arrived then the threat to Prometheus and his team would undoubtedly be far greater than if the fight was only against humans.

He glanced at the three Decepticons grouped behind him. All three looked mostly the same, being bred more for use as fodder than anything else. The three would make imposing targets to any human but to an Autobot they wouldn't be much more than simple minions of Centurion. Still, they each had their own personalities and identities yet each had been programmed with an extreme sense of loyalty to the Decepticon cause. They would willingly die for their cause if they had to. If the lack of energon wasn't such a problem for the unborn protoforms back on board the _Nemesis_ then it wouldn't take much for replacements to be bred to take the place of any one of these soldiers if they should fall.

_Stupid fodder,_ Prometheus thought as he regarded the trio of Decepticon soldiers, _and yet they're the future of the Decepticons. That's a damn shame._

"You two," Prometheus said, pointing to the two standing to his right. They looked ate him, keenly attentive and quite willing to go on into battle without little thought for their own safety. "You're to both go along the left flank."

He turned to the other one, the one Decepticon that he figured looked the most competent.

"You're with me," Prometheus ordered before adding, "no one's to start firing until I do, is that understood?"

Three metal heads nodded and Prometheus regarded each of the Decepticon soldiers with a careful and examining gaze. There was a chance that all three Decepticon soldiers would end up dead at the end of this. Prometheus didn't care about this in any way whatsoever, just as long as he himself stayed alive and that he was able to recover the Matrix of Leadership successfully.

"Move out!" He barked and the two Decepticon soldiers he had ordered to approach the base from the left flank started down into the valley. The other one, the one ordered to stay with Prometheus simply remained standing where he was. He was waiting for Prometheus to start moving himself and started following when Prometheus began stepping down into the valley himself.

No doubt the humans would see them coming. As Prometheus started across the floor of the desert valley there was a flash from something up ahead, just outside the wire fence that went around the compound. It was a recoilless rifle and the shell that it launched streaked through the air at a fast pace, passing by Prometheus by a few metres. It exploded in the ground a short distance behind him, sending up a column of dirt and sand that drifted back down to earth seconds later.

The two Decepticon soldiers that Prometheus had ordered around the left flank came under fire by multiple human soldiers. The rifles the human soldiers wielded did little to the armour on the Decepticons since each round simply glanced off harmlessly. The pair of Decepticon soldiers opened fire with their energy cannons, blowing away groups of human soldiers as well as knocking over sections of the fence on the east side of the compound.

An alarm siren began to sound from within the compound as the human forces here were put on high alert. Prometheus found the loud, whooping siren noise a mere annoyance and decided he would try and find a way to shut it off.

Ahead there were several human soldiers running out of the compound, each raising their weapons as they began firing at the oncoming foes. Prometheus felt the slight sting of the bullets as they pinged off of his armour, ignoring them as he raised his right arm cannon and fired. The blast was a bright fiery orange colour and it left a faint glowing contrail behind it of a matching colour scheme. The shot slammed into the ground in front of a group of the human soldiers, a wave of orange energy lancing forth and enveloping the soldiers. Within seconds they had been reduced to nothing but chunks of charred bones as their flesh was burned away and their screams abruptly silenced. The gate behind them was blown inwards, one half of it knocking over a pair of the human soldiers as they sought cover.

The recoilless rifle that had fired earlier was mounted behind some sandbags near the gate here. Two human soldiers were manning it and managed to fire it again before Prometheus could silence them. The shot slammed into the Decepticon soldier that had been following Prometheus, blowing a chunk out of his chest in a loud blast of smoke and flame. Shards of metal went flying as the Decepticon was knocked backwards, landing in the sand with a dull _thump!_

Regardless of whether he was dead or alive Prometheus kept walking, firing his cannon at where the recoilless rifle was mounted. The wave of energy left the two soldiers manning the weapon nothing but charred husks that slumped onto a burning set of sandbags, the weapon itself melting away in the heat.

There was a guard tower to the right and the human standing inside it had begun to open fire. Prometheus stopped at the burning remains of the gate, turning his attention towards the tower as he surveyed the fires burning in front of him. The sand bags had been set alight thanks to him and he couldn't help but feel some excitement as he watched them. More humans meant more things to burn. It seemed that these organic beings burnt real well and so Prometheus was keen to exploit this aspect of the humans.

He blasted the guard tower once and its top half erupted into a column of flame, the human within being vaporized. Pieces of the stone and metal of the tower were sent flying across half of the compound, showering down upon the area. More human soldiers were running abut within the ground of the compound as Prometheus found out whilst stepping through the blasted away gate. Some of them had wizened up to the forces they were up against and had started to retreat.

A pair of human soldiers had set up a Javelin rocket launcher and Prometheus didn't catch sight of this until after they had fired. The rocket pounded into his chest and made him stumble, the pain searing through him as the explosive round pierced his armour and detonated. He roared angrily and with a single blast from his energy cannon he had incinerated the humans responsible.

On the runway the humans were attempting to launch one of their jet fighters. Prometheus saw it starting up the runway which was some distance to his right and thus he shifted his aim towards it, ignoring the other human soldiers that were opening fire on him with standard rifles. He fired his energy cannon once more and the blast slammed into the ground behind the jet as it had started to drive up the runway. The wave of orange energy broke the jet fighter in hundreds of burning little pieces that went flying forth away from impact point of the blast, scattering across the tarmac like confetti.

The buildings that took up most of the space within the compound were mostly three storeys or less. Prometheus could see that what looked like the important command structure was ahead of him, just past a sort of marching ground that the humans no doubt used for displays of military discipline. By now there were humans racing out of the building, some going for the few Jeeps that were parked outside.

Prometheus took aim and fired, watching as the orange blast slammed into the front of the building and sent ripples of flame searing through the bricks and stone that it was constructed of. The whole front of the building was taken up with an eruption of beautiful fire, chunks of masonry being sent flying forth and showering upon the grounds out front. What was left of the building was a scorched back-half, the offices and control room within completely devastated. Fires raged in places while further sections of the structure began to collapse.

A human tank rumbled out of a nearby hangar. In an instant Prometheus had swivelled around where he stood, laughing crazily as he blasted the tank. The tank was sent up and off of the ground, slamming into the front of the hangar it had emerged from. This brought the whole structure in upon it, the hangar collapsing into a hulk of twisted metal pylons and sheets.

Beyond the hangar was the tunnel entrance that Prometheus had been seeking. The bulkhead doors at its front were sealed shut undoubtedly in order to keep intruders out. Prometheus simply stepped a bit closer, kicking aside the few human soldiers left in his way. Nearby he could hear the two Decepticon soldiers that he had sent to attack the compound from the left flank wreaking havoc, blowing away human soldiers and vehicles as well as the several hangars that lined the runway.

By now the compound was mostly in smoking ruins with the human defenders scattered and running in fear. The attack had been swift as Prometheus had planned but it wasn't quite over yet. The prize the Decepticons were after was stored underground and Prometheus could already see himself walking away with the Matrix of Leadership in hand.

With this in mind he spent about a minute watching a nearby fuel tank at the runway explode into a massive ball of flame. It was perhaps the most beautiful sight that Prometheus had witnessed today as the primitive fossil fuel ignited from a rupture in the tank's side. With a loud _bang_ the tank exploded outwards, the column of fire going up at least twenty metres. Black smoke poured out from its centre, this thick column wafting off even higher into the air before the wind carried it further west. The tank detonated again as more of the fuel ignited, furthering the already beautiful fire that was burning amongst the fuel tank's wreckage. There had been a few humans standing nearby when this had occurred and now they were all running around while covered in thick flames, screaming wildly. This sort of thing was enough to bring the robotic equivalent of a smile to Prometheus' face.

Prometheus shook himself out of his awe-induced stupor and shifted his attention to the task at hand. The Matrix of Leadership wasn't far now, he could sense it: the energy readings were faint due to the underground position of the Matrix but it was most certainly where Prometheus had thought it would be. No one had moved it at the last minute, indicating that the humans hadn't been expecting this sort of attack.

Prometheus took aim with his right arm cannon at the thick metal bulkhead doors at the entrance of the tunnel, firing a single shot when his aim was sound. The blast slammed into the bulkhead doors with a loud _krump!_ The bulkhead doors were simultaneously blasted open and melted away from the force and heat of the blast, opening the way into the set of winding but brightly lit tunnels that went down into the old silo complex.

Within seconds Prometheus had transformed into his desert camouflage tank mode, speeding inside as fast as he could get his tank form to go. The heat of the sun was replaced by the relatively cool interior of the tunnels as he entered yet there was something about heat that he liked. He would have preferred heat over cold any day.

The energy readings grew stronger as he continued through the tunnels, taking him deep underground. Within twenty minutes he was in the old silo facility, the walls a dull grey and covered in ageing paint. Old signs hung up on places on the walls, providing directions to the different parts of the facility. Of course these signs were obsolete, having been in place for over fifty human years.

The modern day humans had stored numerous metal crates and containers down here within the spacious tunnels of the silo complex. Most contained military equipment and research equipment while the half a dozen or so vacant missile silos housed laboratories and secure vaults.

As Prometheus rumbled inside the underground silo facility he surprised many humans, all of which had been put on high alert as a result of the alarm that had been sounded from outside. Some of the humans seemed stupefied when they saw the tank driving towards them but this didn't last long since Prometheus opened fire on the first group of human soldiers he came across. The flame thrower on the front of his tank mode was the weapon he used, spreading the thick column of flame over the ten or so human soldiers scattered in front of him. Flames licked at the metal containers and concrete floors and walls. The humans caught in the stream began to shut and scream in both surprise and agony as they were enveloped in excruciatingly hot flames. It wasn't long before ten smoking and charred human corpses lay scattered in front of Prometheus and after a brief respite he continued onwards, following the energy readings he was receiving.

The Matrix of Leadership wasn't far now, this much was certain to him. Human soldiers were preparing more rigid defences when Prometheus came trundling down one of the larger tunnels, coming under fire from several humans armed with rifles. A recoilless rifle had been set up but none of the humans got a chance to use it since Prometheus used his tank form's cannon to blast it away, sending a trio of human soldiers who had been standing near it to get sent flying a considerable distance. A few grenades were thrown his way but their explosions did little against him but they did manage to fill the tunnel up with clouds of concrete dust, obscuring the view the human's had of the battle. Prometheus' optic systems could detect the humans through the haze and he seized upon this tactical advantage by using his tank form's forward firing machine gun to mow down the remaining humans.

He continued onwards once all of the humans were done, following the energy readings he was getting that continued to increase the nearer he went to their source. His tank treads crunched sickeningly over a few of the dead humans as he went but he cared little about this, keeping his mind set on the task at hand.

The prize was near, he could sense it. The Matrix of Leadership, being the apparently powerful device it was emanated all sorts of energy that could be easily detected by Decepticons like him. This would explain why the humans had stored it deep underground in a place like this, making sure that the layers of rock above would mask its otherwise easily detected energy signature.

Too bad the humans had a habit of recording everything they did here on weakly defended computer networks. Prometheus felt pleased with himself as he continued to the silo where the readings were originating from, further nearing the item he had been sent to collect. Today he had cheerfully killed many humans and he couldn't wait to kill more. The day wasn't over just yet so he might be able to top up his quota of dead humans before this planet's sun went down.

The silo's doors were open, revealing a carefully constructed vault. In the centre was a glass case and within lay the twisted helix form of the Matrix of Leadership. The silo was large enough for Prometheus to emerge from his tank form and he willingly did so, stretching out his limbs once he was changed back into his full robot form. He noticed that several computers were hooked up to the glass case, taking readings from the Matrix of Leadership that human scientists would have no doubt mulled over and over and yet not reached any solid conclusions.

What conclusions were there to be made? The Matrix of Leadership was beyond their understanding and it was even beyond the understanding of Prometheus. It was a device capable of resurrecting dead Cybertronians, it was capable of powering an energon harvester and it was capable of raising armies. The humans had been wise to store it away from prying eyes down in a place like this.

With a sharp jab of his right elbow Prometheus smashed the class case containing the Matrix of Leadership, letting the many shards of glass twinkle onto the concrete floor below. He smiled a great beaming metal smile that beared the jagged metal teeth within his mouth. Anyone who saw that smile would have been instantly unnerved.

He clutched the Matrix of Leadership in his right hand, feeling the warmth of its power against him. Now all he needed was to get it back to Centurion and they could raise the army they needed. With the army they could get the Lance of Unicron and with the Lance of Unicron they could activate the ancient portal…And when the ancient portal was open Unicron would return.


	41. Tidal Wave

**Tidal Wave  
**Somewhere off the coast of California, United States  
December 16th, 2010

While Prometheus was attacking the US military base in the Arizona desert another battle was raging elsewhere, this one a naval and air engagement which was being fought several miles off of the coast of north California. Three US Navy destroyers had engaged a hostile _Nimitz_ class aircraft carrier and this aircraft carrier had sent forth about a dozen jet fighters which now buzzed through the air around the battle zone. Tracer fire zipped through the sky while US jet fighters were shot out of the sky by the much faster hostile jet fighters. This battle had been raging for the last two hours and one of the destroyers had been reduced to a flaming wreck, thick plumes of dark smoke wafting forth from several fires that burned on its upper decks. Reinforcements had been called but it was unknown just how long it would take them to arrive. It seemed a safe bet that they wouldn't arrive in time to make a decisive change in the battle.

Flying high over the dry mountainous regions that took up the northern part of California was the Autobot Breakaway in jet fighter form. His desert camouflage pattern blended him in well with the surrounding landscape, not that this would do much to help him.

He had been dispatched to investigate this battle as soon as word had reached NEST that it was occurring. From what he had been told an apparently American aircraft carrier and its complement of fighters had engaged a few US Navy destroyers, hinting that maybe the aircraft carrier wasn't exactly an aircraft carrier.

Breakaway was the fastest Autobot out of the ones here on Earth and his jet fighter form was faster than any normal human jet fighter. He had managed to go from Austria (where he had still been hanging around with some of the other Autobots in order to help in a clean up operation) to California within the two hours from the battle's beginning. When he flew out over the ocean and found his way into the battle zone he wasn't surprised to see that speedy as his arrival might have been he had arrived a little too late to help out in a big way. As he arrived one of the US Navy destroyers received a direct hit from one of the aircraft carrier's main guns and the front half of the destroyer erupted into a ball of flame. The remaining half started to sink into the water, crew members racing around on the burning decks as they struggled to make it to the life-boats or at the very least keep out of the water.

Breakaway hadn't been too certain on what to expect when he arrived. Details had been somewhat vague when it came to the exact specifics of the battle being raged but General Morshower had been concerned enough to send someone to investigate and lend a hand. The aircraft carrier looked like a typical American Navy _Nimitz_ class one right down to the bridge. There was only one oddity that Breakaway noticed as he flew in over the battle area: there were no humans on the runway. Often with aircraft carriers there would be many humans milling about, fuelling the jet planes for take off. For this particular aircraft carrier this wasn't the case, rather the jet fighters took off by themselves without any sign of human involvement.

Breakaway would have preferred to take a break from all of this recent combat, especially after the events of the last few days. It seemed that his arrival on Earth had coincided with a sudden rise in Decepticon incursions, something that only struck him as dreadfully unlucky. He had had little time to try and repair his relationship with Chromia and had instead aided in trying to stop Centurion from doing whatever it was he was planning to do here on Earth. Even after all that had happened Centurion was still on the loose somewhere and his reappearance had seemed to encourage other Decepticons to start wreaking havoc in places on Earth as well.

According to Morshower there were battles raging in the states of Arizona and Nevada. NEST forces were already stretched thin but Morshower had managed to organize the remaining Autobots to head for the town of Tranquility in Nevada. It was widely assumed that the Decepticons were in that town to enact vengeance upon the human known as Sam Witwicky but this was mere speculation. In fact, no one in NEST knew exactly what the Decepticons were trying to achieve with this sudden rise in activity but it had certainly worried plenty of people. The details that they currently had all came from what Centurion had told them, about bringing back someone known as "Unicron" and being granted power beyond his wildest dreams. This information could be attributed to Centurion's obvious insanity but there was something unsettling about the way he had said these things, as if he genuinely believed in what he was doing. Such strong beliefs could only be placed in something that actually existed, so perhaps Centurion wasn't so delusional after all.

Breakaway didn't know what to think. He had enough on his mind already, the main thing being his broken relationship with Chromia. He had been meaning to talk to her but had been sent out to investigate the battle here instead. He hadn't much choice in the matter and had considered that he was probably better off carrying out General Morshower's orders judging from the frantic manner that the General had delivered them. There was a lot happening where NEST was concerned so Morshower's stress was understandable.

It wasn't long before a trio of the jet fighters turned their attention towards Breakaway as he flew in over the battle area. Tracer fire from the guns on the aircraft carrier started coming his way so Breakaway pulled a few barrel rolls to throw off the aim of the gunners (not that he could see anyone manning the guns). The jet fighters buzzing around were standard carrier-borne F-18s yet they didn't bear the US Navy insignia that Breakaway expected. Rather they beared a familiar emblem, one that Breakaway always associated with the enemy: the Decepticon insignia. The jet fighters had a colour scheme that was a mix of subtle shades of grey and an intimidating dark red colour.

Two of the jet fighters zoomed towards Breakaway from up ahead, their engines roaring as they picked up speed. Within seconds Breakaway had locked a missile onto each one and had fired, the missiles zooming through the air and turning to intercept the oncoming Decepticons disguised as fighter jets. Both jets exploded in balls of flame, the lifeless Decepticons reverting from their vehicle modes in their dying throes before plummeting to the ocean surface below.

One of the fighters managed to swoop in behind Breakaway, both of its high-powered machine guns firing. Tracer fire lanced over Breakaway's wings as he tried to shake off his pursuer, swooping low over one of the burning Navy destroyers before heading straight through the dark smoke that wafted off of the destroyer's burning decks. As much as he had been hoping for the smoke to throw off his pursuer he wasn't surprised that it hadn't worked. Instead the Decepticon jet simply matched his speed and kept on his tail, firing its guns whenever it got a chance.

A warning message appeared across Breakaway's heads-up display. It was a message he hadn't seen for a long time but one that he recognized well enough to be able to relate it to trouble: MISSILE WARNING. The Decepticon in pursuit behind him fired a missile which went on to catch up with Breakaway's almost matchless speed before it was mere metres from his tail.

Breakaway hit the air brakes suddenly and sent his nose down towards the ocean floor. It had been a risky move but it had succeeded, the missile shooting right over him as he dropped suddenly. The missile struggled to turn around and correct its course but it ended up slamming into the ocean as it turned around, exploding and sending a column of roughened white water up high.

The Decepticon on Breakaway's tail managed to react fast enough to compensate for his sudden drop in speed and angle. Below the last intact human destroyer had turned its guns onto the pursuing Decepticon jet, anti-aircraft shells exploding around the two Cybertronians as they swooped in low over the water.

Breakaway was out of his jet fighter mode and into his robot form within seconds, activating his hover jets moments before he hit the water. His momentum carried him forwards a fair distance before his hover jets kept him floating in place, allowing him to gather his bearings before he turned to face the pursuing Decepticon behind him. He switched his right arm to its sniper rifle form and fired a couple of shots, blasting the wings off of the incoming Decepticon jet. The wingless and severely damaged Decepticon went spiralling over Breakaway before landing with a large splash into the water behind him.

Breakaway looked up and found that there were at least seven of these jets left. The human destroyer vessels had managed to take down a few, leaving just these seven for Breakaway to contend with. Not only that but the aircraft carrier was still firing its anti-aircraft guns in his direction, shells exploding around him as he propelled himself up with his hover jets.

A few of the anti-aircraft shells hit him, knocking him backwards as they exploded painfully on his front and side. He turned to face the half a dozen anti-aircraft guns the aircraft carrier had trained on him and Breakaway blasted away a few of them with well placed sniper shots, providing a brief lull in the firing that allowed him to ascend some more. By now the Decepticons who were buzzing around in jet modes had lost interest in the human naval destroyers, turning their attention to the lone Autobot that had arrived into the battle.

Breakaway hovered above the remaining human destroyers, realizing that some of the crew members on the upper decks had begun to cheer him on. Breakaway took careful aim towards the incoming Decepticon jet fighters, using his sniper rifle to blast them out of the sky as they swooped towards him. He managed to down about four before the remaining three broke off from the attack run, preferring to try a different approach.

Strangely enough Breakaway found that he was getting quite excited, even if he was in a potentially life threatening situation. The excitement he felt gave way to confidence and Breakaway realized just how damn good he was, blasting Decepticons out of the sky as if he was swatting mere flies.

It took him a moment to realize that the three remaining Decepticon jet fighters had split up and were now each coming at him from a different direction. He gathered his wits, finding that his bout of confidence had made a lull in overall attention to the battle. He felt stupid, especially since he was seconds away from getting pummelled by three incoming Decepticons.

Hovering where he was Breakaway raised his sniper rifle, clearing his mind of the doubt he felt of his situation and of the overconfidence that had almost gotten him killed. The jet coming at him from his front was the first that he took aim at, zooming in via the sniper rifle's optical attachment. He squeezed off about three shots in quick succession, the high-powered sniper rounds blowing away the wings of the Decepticon jet fighter. The third round punched a hole right through the fuselage, sending a flaming and mangled heap of metal falling into the ocean.

Breakaway swivelled around where he hovered to face the Decepticon jet fighter that had been coming at him from his left. With careful aim he squeezed off a sniper shot just as the jet began firing its high-powered machine guns. Points of pain erupted over Breakaway's chest as several rounds tore into him but he managed to remain where he hovered, keeping his aim steady.

The shot he fired blew a hole straight through the Decepticon jet fighter's fuselage. The Decepticon reverted into its full robot mode, activating its hover jets and stopping a short distance away from Breakaway. Its right arm changed into a chain-gun but Breakaway didn't give the Decepticon a chance to fire again. Instead, the Autobot squeezed off another sniper shot and blew the Decepticon's head apart. The lifeless corpse dropped into the ocean with an abrupt _splash!_

Behind Breakaway the third Decepticon jet fighter had opened fire, delivering a pair of missiles as the Autobot turned around. Both missiles slammed into Breakaway's front, sending hot searing pain through him. He grunted and was knocked out of the air, his hover jets failing as the missiles exploded at his chest. Parts of his armour there were blown away as the missiles pierced his armour.

Breakaway was sent falling into the cold ocean water, surrounded by a cool wet sensation as his vision was enveloped by murky water and rippling waves. The sun filtered through the water in a lazy but bright fashion while the underbelly of the intact human destroyer was nearby. For a second Breakaway thought he was dying but it took him a moment to work out that he wasn't quite finished yet.

He kick-started his hover jets and shot himself out of the water, ignoring the pain at his chest from where he had received both missiles. He came out into the bright Californian sunshine just in time to witness the Decepticon jet fighter that had blasted him get shot down by the guns on the intact human destroyer. The Decepticon became a flaming streak that had metal shards breaking from it as it plummeted into the ocean, exploding into dozens of pieces as it hit the surface of the water.

Breakaway looked down at himself as he hovered over the water, finding that two sizeable scorched holes had been blown into the armour at his chest. Both injuries throbbed painfully but he did his best to ignore them, knowing that the battle here with the Decepticons wasn't over just yet.

The aircraft carrier still had to be taken out. Breakaway didn't like the prospect of having to deal with such a large and heavily armoured target but he was certain he would think of something. He turned to face the carrier but was surprised with what he witnessed happen next. He hadn't been quite expecting it but then again he wasn't too surprised either, having noticed the slight signs as to what the carrier was earlier.

The lack of humans on the runway had been one, as well as the energy readings he detected that he hadn't had much time to really pay attention to until now. It was funny what one missed out on when they were busy defending themselves and trying to survive against numerically superior enemy forces.

The aircraft carrier had begun to unfold from itself with a familiar sounding (but loud) _chuk-chak_ noise. The unmistakable shapes of Cybertronian servo-joints appeared as the runway split into half. Large metallic legs took up the lower half of the runway as the sheets the floor of the runway parted to the sides of these legs. The bridge tower that had been to one side of the runway shifted further up its lengths before its sides parted, revealing the red-eyed Decepticon face within. The lines of anti-aircraft guns along the side were shifted and broken up, forming a pair of thick metal arms that each beared large metal hands. This whole monstrosity began to sink within seconds but the legs of this beast found leverage on the seabed while the waist of the Decepticon was at the water's surface. Parts of anti-aircraft guns and missile launchers lined the giant Decepticon's arms. The look on the metal beast's face was one of sheer malevolent amusement, the red eyes containing a similar insanity to that of Centurion.

Breakaway simply hovered in place, unsure of just what to do. The giant Decepticon blotted out the sun at this angle, casting an eerie and dark shadow upon Breakaway and the human naval destroyer parked behind him. By now the destroyer was beginning to start on its way on a retreat, leaving the Autobot to fend for himself.

However, the destroyer didn't get far. The giant Decepticon transformed his right arm into a massive gun that beared about three separate barrels, each glowing with energy. Breakaway managed to fly out of the way of the blast as the gun boomed and energy blasts lanced out, slamming into the destroyer. The destroyer was enveloped in waves of blue-white energon based energy, the whole form of the boat being vaporized by the intense heat. Breakaway was knocked aside by the sheer concussive force of the explosion, almost ending up in the water again before he was able to recover and fire a burst of his hover jets to get him back on track.

When he had been sent out to this battle he hadn't been too sure on what to expect. There had been that slight possibility that the aircraft carrier that had engaged the human naval vessels might have been a giant Decepticon. Still, this certainly explained why the battle had started in the first place.

Breakaway was left to face this new foe that towered over him. Valiantly, Breakaway held his sniper rifle at the ready yet he could already see that this would have little effect. Even the Decepticon seemed to know this, its large mouth turning into the robotic equivalent of a downright evil smile.

"**Insignificant little Autobot**," The Decepticon announced mockingly as he looked down upon Breakaway, his voice loud and deep. It was the sort of voice that could make glass break from the way it resonated through the air. Breakaway felt something rattle inside him, as if the giant Decepticon's voice had loosened a part of him. He wouldn't be surprised if this was what had actually happened.

Breakaway felt some fear but he managed to keep it under control, displaying his usual calm and collected self towards the giant foe he now faced. He had never been aware of any Decepticon this big but then again he had heard rumours of this sort of thing. Apparently something just as large had been faced by the humans and Autobots in the battle in Egypt last year. That might have been different to know though since Breakaway was all by himself. And all of a sudden that feeling of loneliness grew to envelop him entirely. Breakaway no longer felt that confidence he had been feeling while he had shot the Decepticon jet fighters out of the sky.

"**Do you think you can defeat me?**" The Decepticon barked, looking at the dwarfed Autobot with noticeable scorn.

Breakaway felt a trifle annoyed at the Decepticon's sheer arrogance.

"And who are you?" Breakaway announced, keeping his voice level as to not give away the fear he was currently feeling.

"**I am Tidal Wave!**" The Decepticon boomed, sounding a tad proud of himself. He pointed the large tri-barrelled cannon at Breakaway, preparing to charge it up.  
"Yeah, well I'm Breakaway," Breakaway said somewhat casually. He could tell that the name seemed to strike a chord within Tidal Wave since the Decepticon seemed to give a look of slight surprise.

"**Breakaway, I know of you!**" He pointed a large accusing finger at the Autobot. "**You once served Lord Centurion but you betrayed him.** **I am sure he would like to punish you for your betrayal**…"

So, Tidal Wave was one of Centurion's lackeys. Why a big and intimidating Decepticon would be working for Centurion was beyond Breakaway's knowledge. Centurion could be very convincing, even to those that could have easily killed him. Once again Breakaway was reminded of his undercover work within the ranks of Centurion's army and once again he realized just how much his life had been ruined by the Decepticons. His relationship with Chromia had been ruined thanks to his time spent in the Decepticon ranks and now he was faced with the sort of enemy that Breakaway would be more than happy to flee from. He doubted he would get very far if he did flee though and so he kept hovering in place, looking up towards Tidal Wave's dark metal face and glowing red eyes.

"**Perhaps I could take you to him?**" Tidal Wave asked, more to himself than to Breakaway, "**I am sure that he has a slow and painful death planned for you.**"

Breakaway remained hovering where he was, figuring that this Decepticon seemed more stupid than anything else. The bigger they are the stupider they got it seemed. Breakaway darted into action as Tidal Wave swiped at him with his left hand, attempting to pluck him out of the air for his own purposes.

"**Come here Autobot!**" Tidal Wave barked, angered at Breakaway's evasion of his grab, "**I'm going to take you to see Centurion!**"

"Not a chance," Breakaway replied. He summed up all of the courage he could muster and brought up his sniper rifle, taking quick and careful aim at Tidal Wave's left eye.

The shot he fired hit the Decepticon directly in the left eye. The eye exploded in a shower of red energy and pieces of metal. Tidal Wave roared angrily, putting his left hand up to his face in order to feel over the damage caused. When he realized that an eye of his was missing he simply roared again in a much angrier fashion, the sound of the roar reverberating right through Breakaway's frame.

Breakaway started flying backwards, taking aim at Tidal Wave's other eye. A big stupid Decepticon like Tidal Wave would undoubtedly be rendered useless without sight so Breakaway intended to blind him. Unfortunately Breakaway's next shot missed and hit the face of the Decepticon on the right side, the round glancing harmlessly off of the metal there.

Tidal Wave followed up by raising his tri-barrelled cannon and shooting it at Breakaway. The three blasts came out at a surprising speed and Breakaway had barely anytime to react, using the boost function of his hover jets to get a quick burst of speed that propelled him away from the incoming shots. Unfortunately he wasn't quite quick enough, the top-most blast enveloping his legs.

The pain was intense and Breakaway yelled loudly, the explosion that erupted underneath him sending him flying a considerable distance. His hover jets failed and he found himself spiralling towards the wreck of one of the destroyers, landing on it with a painful _thump!_ He almost slid off of the side but managed to grab onto one of the destroyer's cannons, pulling himself onto the upper deck. He lay on the upper deck for a moment or two, able to feel two searing and excruciating areas of pain just below his waist.

A look down revealed what he hadn't been too keen on finding out. Both of his legs were gone, vaporized in the heat of the blast that had hit him. In their place were two pathetically short and scorched stumps of twisted melting metal, liquid energon seeping out of some sections of the stumps. Breakaway's waist and stomach area were scorched and burning, the entire lower half of his body enveloped with excruciating pain.

Tidal Wave waded through the water towards him until he was standing right over the fallen Autobot. Breakaway looked up at him, unable to help but feel a sudden rage build in him. Of all the enemies that Breakaway could have gone against and he ended up fighting with the one that was simply too big for him. The rage he felt quickly subsided though, replaced with a fear of the uncertain future that awaited him.

Tidal Wave bent slightly and wrapped his left hand around Breakaway, clutching him tightly in a firm vice-like grip that could have crushed the life out of the Autobot was ease. Fortunately Tidal Wave wasn't planning on killing Breakaway, not when he could turn him over to Centurion and receive a reward and/or promotion.

Tidal Wave brought Breakaway up close to his face, peering towards the legless and wounded Autobot with his one remaining good eye. Breakaway didn't struggle, knowing that Tidal Wave would simply crush him if he tried to escape. In fact, Breakaway had more or less resigned himself to the fate that awaited him, whatever that was.

"**You are nothing, Breakaway,**" Tidal Wave declared rather happily, showing another malevolent smile that only unnerved Breakaway, "**Perhaps Centurion will find a use for you**. **You're lucky I didn't kill you…Or maybe you're unlucky that I'm allowing you to live so Centurion can have his fun with you, traitorous scum.**"

Breakaway was about to say something in response, something along the lines of "_You're bad aim kept me alive"_ but he thought against it. He wasn't keen on getting the life crushed out of him and there was no doubt that Tidal Wave would do this.

Tidal Wave seemed to notice Breakaway's consideration of replying and simply smiled, figuring that he had forced the Autobot into submission. He more or less had, Breakaway having thought against carrying out any sort of struggle. He couldn't fight his way out of Tidal Wave's grip even if he wanted to.

"**One sign of trouble from you, Breakaway, and I'll crush you to death.**" Tidal Wave bellowed. Somewhat jokingly he tossed the Autobot out of his hand, allowing Breakaway the sudden sensation of free-fall before he caught him again.

Tidal Wave laughed when he saw Breakaway's surprised gaze. He seemed to find the Autobot's whole predicament quite amusing. Breakaway didn't like the idea of being thrown around like some kind of ball but even if he managed to escape Tidal Wave's grip using this as his chance where would he go without any legs? He would be unable to get very far without a pair of legs.

Tidal Wave waded towards the shore, stepping onto the dry desert beaches of northern California. Before them the rocky mountainous landscape stretched out and somewhere beyond those mountains was the town of Tranquility in Nevada. This was where Centurion was at the moment and where Megatron and Starscream were enacting their revenge on Sam Witwicky.

And so Tidal Wave started across the desert keeping the legless Breakaway in hand. Breakaway wasn't looking forward to meeting Centurion again, having almost been killed during his encounter with the Decepticon back in the Netherlands. This time he doubted that Centurion would bother with the niceties and instead get straight onto killing him.

* * *

**A/N:** The Decepticon aircraft carrier is certainly an imposing foe and it only makes sense that he can send numerous Decepticon jets out of him as well. Maybe they'll put a Decepticon aircraft carrier in the third movie? I certainly hope so.


	42. There but for the Grace of God

**There but for the Grace of God  
**December 16th, 2010

Tranquility, Nevada

Sam Witwicky must have been knocked out at some point since he couldn't remember much of what had happened after Centurion had killed Bumblebee. He was quite certain that Bumblebee was dead, having witnessed Centurion impale the Autobot upon his blade and effectively cleave him in two. Denial was the first feeling that Sam felt, refusing to take his Autobot guardian's death as fact. He and Bumblebee had been through tougher situations and surely Bumblebee was still alive?

Maybe the whole of today had been one long and complicated dream. He was half-expecting to open his eyes and find himself still seated on the bus headed into Tranquility, the midday sun up high and heating the Nevada landscape as it often did. Bumblebee would still be alive yet there would be none of this stuff about "Centurion's device". There would be no Megatron and no Starscream in Tranquility since the pair would still be hiding out somewhere in the solar system. There would also be no Deadeye, no Depthcharge and no Smokescreen since Sam was certain that all three Autobots were a mere part of this long dream he had been having. There would also be no Jones Marshall (which Sam didn't mind since Jones had never been much help anyway) and there would be no Father James Turner (the robot obsessed priest who carried a gun). The whole thing was just a long dream and Sam was certain that he was still seated on the bus into Tranquility. When he arrived in town he would find Bumblebee awaiting him at his home in an eager fashion, sort of like a dog excited to see its owner returning from a long day at work (just without the leg-humping).

It was in this state of denial that Sam opened his eyes. His head throbbed painfully and the memories of the battle that had raged on the street outside the old church were still fresh in his mind, yet the part featuring Bumblebee getting killed could only be a part of the dream. He was sorely disappointed when he found that he wasn't on the bus headed into Tranquility nor was he in any place he knew of. In fact he was lying on a rusty metal bench in a large warehouse type structure, one that was dirtied and had numerous smashed out windows near its ceiling. Discarded wooden boxes were scattered around the inside of the warehouse while several shelving units stood nearby, carrying numerous discarded items such as cans of paint and rusty tools. Debris was scattered all over the floor of the dank and abandoned warehouse, ranging from old newspapers to discarded plastic cups.

It was then that he realized that he had been having no dream. In fact the day's events had all happened within reality, including the battle that has occurred on the street outside the old church. Bumblebee was dead and…

_Was it my fault?_

Friends were supposed to look out for each other. He had failed in that regards and Bumblebee was dead as a result.

_What could I have done?_

He had shouted at Bumblebee to turn around and face Centurion who had been about to deliver a killing blow. Bumblebee had turned around, only to receive Centurion's blade right through the chest. Sam had been filled with both rage and anguish as his Autobot friend had been almost cut in half by Centurion.

After this Sam's memory got a little hazy. He remembered that he had started to run to Bumblebee's side, only to get grabbed from behind by Megatron. Megatron had laughed then, even as the first few tears had started down Sam's cheeks. And then Sam had woken up here with an aching skull. This aching skull most probably evidence that he had been knocked out by Megatron. He doubted it had taken much for the Decepticon to put him out cold and Megatron was no doubt planning to enact the slow painful death he had promised Sam.

Bumblebee was gone. The one friend he could truly rely on was dead, slain by a Decepticon that Sam hadn't even been aware existed until today. Sam felt a surge of rage as he realized just how bad things had gone. Not only was Bumblebee dead but Centurion had taken the device from James Turner. The latter occurrence was something that Deadeye and the other Autobots had warned him about since if Centurion got hold of the device then it would render him unstoppable.

Sam sat up, angrily kicking aside the nearest shelf. He knew that it wasn't his fault but he couldn't help but blame himself. Bumblebee was dead and he couldn't have done anything about it. This thought of powerlessness angered him even more and he climbed off of the bench, lunging at a set of shelving and sending it tipping backwards. The items on the shelves landed with a differing variety of _clicks_ and _clacks_ onto the cement floor of the disused warehouse while the shelving unit slammed loudly.

He wiped away the few rage-induced tears that had begun to trickle from his eyes when he heard the shouts. The two voices sounded from nearby and both voices were recognizable.

"Hey, Sam, is that you?" It was Jones who called this out, having heard the noises of Sam's rage induced vandalism.

"Keep quiet Jones; that Starscream asshole might be nearby." This was James Turner and his voice was considerably lower and edgy. His comment seemed to make Jones fall silent for a moment but Sam broke the silence anyway.

"Jones? James?" Sam looked down the interior of the warehouse. He could see the two of them strapped to a seat each over in the far corner. Both were struggling against the straps but were having little success.

"Sam! Hey, Sam!" Jones saw Sam and noticed how he wasn't tied up. Sam's next course of action was clear: he would free both James and Jones and the three of them would escape.

Sam realized just how easy the whole setup was. Why wasn't he tied up like the others? And why had they been brought here in the first place? He shook his head, trying to gather his senses and some courage from the despair he was feeling. Everything had gone wrong the moment Megatron and Starscream had arrived outside the church. Things had gotten even worse when Centurion had showed up. Bumblebee was dead and Sam only blamed himself for it. Now he, James and Jones were being held captive in this warehouse…

"Silence, insects!"

Sam's eyes darted to where the familiar voice had come from. James and Jones immediately fell silent as their gazes went to Starscream who was stepping into the warehouse via the large main entrance, ducking his head under the top of the doorway in order to fight through. His right arm had been changed into the repeater cannon he preferred over his other armaments and he had it trained in the direction of Jones and James. He stopped just behind the two captive humans, bearing a malevolent smile on his metallic features when he saw Sam.

"Hey, asshole, how about you untie me?" James spat, his tone one of annoyance. His gamey attitude contrasted with the absolute fear that Jones was feeling towards their current situation.

"Talk again insect and I will blow you apart," Starscream replied in a blunt manner, aiming his repeater cannon towards James from behind. The priest fell silent, preferring to not take his chances when a gun that big was pointed in his direction.

Sam felt a sudden and powerful cold metallic grip from behind, pincer-like claws latching onto his arms and legs. Before he could even put up a slight struggle the large metal hand had him pressed onto the bench, the metal pincers that made up a few of Megatron's fingers on this hand tightening their grasp on the human's limbs. There was no doubt that these claws could break his bones with ease yet even with this possibility made clear he struggled, finding that his strength was pathetic when compared to that of the metal beast that gripped him.

Megatron's face leered over him, his jagged metal teeth beared in an unnerving malevolent smile. Sam's heart began to beat wildly in his chest and the adrenaline began to kick in, the human attempting to move his grasped limbs but to no avail. Megatron had him clasped tightly on the arms and legs, looking down upon him with obvious amusement.

"We meet again, Sam Witwicky," Megatron spat. One of the pincers on one of his fingers tightened its grip on Sam's right arm. Sam realized that he was going to break it.

Sam went to speak but his words came out in a mangled heap. He found that in his current state of mind, with fear and despair weighing down heavily on his mind that he was unable to form a cohesive sentence. At first he struggled to form anything other than noises that vaguely resembled English words before he finally managed to get something out but in a weak fashion.

"Oh…uh…well…uh…Megatron…it's, uh…nice to see you too…" Sam felt the grip Megatron had on his right arm tighten ever so slightly. The human swallowed nervously, trying to figure a way out of this. Unfortunately he could find none.

"First I will break every bone in your body. After that I will slowly skin you alive. And when that's done I will rip all the flesh off of your shattered frame, leaving nothing but a heap of useless bones," Megatron said, relishing the thought of doing these things, "I doubt I will have much trouble in doing all of this. You organics are simply so weak. How you ever became a threat to us is beyond me."

Sam didn't like the sound of any of Megatron's proposed actions. The hatred in the Decepticon's voice made it clear that he blamed Sam directly for the two times Megatron had failed to destroy the human race and the Autobot. There was no way that Sam would be able to talk this guy down, especially when a hatred that strong was burning inside Megatron.

"Let those two guys go. They haven't done anything to you," Sam said with a voice containing false courage. He nodded towards where James and Jones were tied up. He was determined that he wouldn't have two more deaths on his conscience, especially when both James and Jones had really nothing to do with this. Starscream would probably kill them both just to spite him yet Sam figured he might be able to talk them out of doing this.

Megatron seemed to frown, considering this for a moment. Then he smiled again, delivering that same malevolent smile that only unnerved Sam even more.

"You are in no position to make demands, boy," Megatron said mockingly, "rather, you're in the one position I like: at my mercy."

After his said this he broke Sam's right arm, shattering the bones just past the elbow with a sudden clench of the pincers that gripped him there.

Sam Witwicky screamed the loudest he had ever done in his life. Unfortunately for him, it was far from over.

* * *

Outside the warehouse Centurion stood waiting. He awaited the return of Prometheus for this loyal soldier had succeeded in retrieving the Matrix of Leadership. The Matrix could in turn provide the power required to raise the army in stasis on board the Decepticon fleet carrier _Nemesis_ and thus begin the all-out assault on Earth that Centurion had planned.

He had his device with him and it was providing him with the abilities they needed. He could have just used that to raise the army but that would leave him without its abilities and thus he would be vulnerable. He knew that Megatron would want him dead as soon as the Matrix of Leadership arrived. Still, Centurion thought he might be able to "persuade" Megatron to join his cause yet he hadn't managed to get in just the right position to do that yet.

The Lance of Unicron was still required for Centurion's overall scheme. According to his sensors the Lance was being moved across the Nevada desert and if he wasn't mistaken it seemed to be heading right for this very town. All he had to do now was remain waiting for whatever stupid human who had it to arrive so he could simply snatch it from them, preferably killing said human in the process.

In the old abandoned warehouse behind him were the three humans who had been taken captive. One of them Megatron had a personal vendetta against thus Centurion had given the Decepticon his chance to fulfil that vendetta. Fortunately whatever screams were occurring (if any) were inaudible from where Centurion was standing. He preferred it that way since those screams would simply annoy him.

There was another thing that Centurion looked forward to seeing: Breakaway. The traitor had been captured by Tidal Wave who was now on his way here, carrying the Autobot with him. Centurion couldn't wait to punish the traitor for simply being that: a traitor. Centurion wasn't sure on just what he would do to Breakaway but he knew that he would enjoy it…whatever it was. He was still thinking about it.

It had been two hours since the battle with the Autobot Bumblebee. Centurion had simply slain the annoying Autobot with ease, showing Megatron and Starscream just how killing an enemy like that was done. The two Decepticons had been having some trouble with Bumblebee when Centurion had arrived.

Centurion had come due to the urgency of him needing to get a hold of the device. He had lost his shield ability, leaving him as vulnerable as any other Cybertronian. He had also lost a few of his other abilities, such as the one that allowed him to impose his will on fellow Cybertronians as well as manipulate anything technological. The original plan had been for Megatron to get it for him but that had been before Centurion had lost his abilities due to a lack of reserve energy that he had stored within himself before losing the device.

With it back in its place at his back he could easily devastate this whole world and yet would come to no harm. However, before he started wreaking havoc he needed the Lance of Unicron. The humans who had it were doing a successful job of shading the energy it gave off, making pinpointing its exact location difficult.

The Matrix of Leadership would allow Centurion to raise an army large enough to take on the defenders of this world. He would secure the portal that was located in Venezuela and he would bring Unicron out of his prison with it. The Lance of Unicron was required to operate the portal.

Centurion was pondering over all of these things when Prometheus arrived, carrying with him the Matrix of Leadership in one hand. They stood out in an overgrown yard, one that was littered with differing pieces of junk from old metal containers to the rusting hulks of wheelless cars. The whole area was home to numerous old and abandoned warehouses as well as a train yard and refinery.

Prometheus stepped from around the corner of the warehouse up ahead, approaching Centurion with his left hand clenched around a small object. Prometheus stopped a short distance from his superior and knelt before him, opening his clenched left hand and revealing the Matrix of Leadership that was held within.

Centurion had always been able to rely on Prometheus to get a job done, even if the Decepticon had an unhealthy obsession with fire. Prometheus beared a few more battle injuries from the defenders of the military base he had attacked in order to get the Matrix of Leadership but fortunately these injuries were not serious ones.

"Lord Centurion, I bring with me what you tasked me to find," Prometheus said, his voice low. He looked up, presenting the Matrix in order for Centurion to grab it.

Centurion did so, clutching the somewhat small device in his right hand. It emanated much energy according to his sensors and was even warm to the touch. The humans who had been keeping it stored away had no doubt been researching it in order to discover its properties. They had no way of understanding an ancient device such as this and even Centurion himself wasn't too sure on what powers the Matrix of Leadership had. It could raise him an army and that was the only thing he cared about.

"You have done well Prometheus," Centurion said as Prometheus stood up, "I shall reward you with a place by my side when Unicron makes me a God."

Prometheus nodded submissively, in awe of his superior.

"Yes, thank you Lord Centurion…"

Centurion tucked the Matrix of Leadership into a compartment at his chest, making sure that it would never leave his possession until he was on board the _Nemesis_. He had lost his personal Divine Device once and had luckily regained it. If he lost the Matrix of Leadership he might not be so lucky.

"What else do you want me to do, Lord Centurion?" Prometheus asked, looking at his superior with those insanity driven red eyes, "is there anything I can do to further aid our cause?"

Centurion thought about this for a moment. Nothing immediately sprang to mind.

"No, not at this time," he replied simply, "rather, you can guard the front of this structure. Megatron isn't quite finished with what he's carrying out inside and I doubt he will be for a long while."

Prometheus nodded again and turned around, heading back around the corner and disappearing from view behind the warehouse. Centurion was left standing by himself again, his gaze shifting out towards the desert that began a few blocks away, past a train yard. He knew that today had been a glorious day and it was still long from over. Above, the storm clouds from earlier were beginning to part. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the cloud cover like holy light and it was then that Centurion heard a familiar voice in his head, one that seemed to fill his entire consciousness yet was only heard by him.

"_**YOU MUST GET THE LANCE,**_" The voice told him, its tone level but authoritative.

Centurion nodded in agreement.

"I shall as soon as I can…"

"_**DO NOT ALLOW MEGATRON TO GAIN POSSESSION OF IT. SUCH AN OCCURRENCE WOULD BE DISASTROUS.**_"

"Do you wish me to kill him?" Centurion smiled when he asked this, thinking that he may as well have done that already.

"_**NO, NOT YET…HE STILL HAS A PART TO PLAY, AS DO YOU CENTURION. BE PREPARED TO ENCOUNTER THOSE WHO POSSESS THE LANCE BUT UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO KILL THE HUMAN KNOWN AS COLONEL FRANCIS WELLER. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"**_

Confusion flowed through Centurion's mind. Who was "Colonel Francis Weller"? Did he have the Lance? If he was a human then what would be wrong with killing him?  
Still, Centurion knew better than to question the orders of a God.

"_**WELLER ALSO HAS A PART TO PLAY. HE WILL COME TO YOU, SO YOU SHALL NOT NEED TO GO TO HIM."**_

"I understand," Centurion replied. And then the voice in his head was gone yet the orders he had been given still reverberated through him. He would follow those orders to the letter.

* * *

Colonel Francis Weller was seated in the backseat of an armoured SUV, ne that beared a grey-black urban camouflage pattern. Seated next to him was Professor Kyle Vince while Captain Xander Farnell was driving, guiding the vehicle across the desert highways and heading to the town of Tranquility in Nevada.

Positioned in the passenger seat was a lead lined container that currently held the spearhead, otherwise known as the "Holy Lance" or "Spear of Destiny" or "Lance of Unicron". It wasn't much in the way of a Lance but there was far more to it than met the eye and Weller knew this better than anyone. The lead lined container would shield the full extent of its energy signature and hopefully prevent anyone from using it to track them.

In his right hand Weller spun his Magnum .44 revolver while Professor Vine eyed the gun with some anxiety. The gun was being spun a safe distance from Vine but the fear of an accidental firing was still there. Weller didn't really care though.

The voice came to him again and Weller fell into a trance-like state, hearing those stern level tones reverberate through his whole being. He did not know who the voice belonged to but he did know that it was of a far higher power, one that he could not help but listen to. Was he hearing the voice of God? Maybe. It couldn't be ignored though.

"_**YOU MUST HEAD TO THE WAREHOUSE DISTRICT. THIS IS WHERE YOU WILL FIND THE DEVICE. YOU SHALL HAVE NO TROUBLE FROM THOSE WHO MAY FIGHT AGAINST YOU THERE, NOT WHEN THE POWERS OF THE ALL-SPARK ARE YOURS TO COMMAND.**_"

And Weller, in his trance-like state simply nodded. He muttered "Yes" under his breath while Professor Vine looked on with some concern. Farnell barely noticed, keeping his concentration on the road ahead.

"_**REMEMBER COLONEL, YOU HAVE AN IMPORTANT PART TO PLAY IN ALL OF THIS. SOON YOU WILL ACHIEVE THE GOAL YOU AIM FOR: COMPLETE DESTRUCTION OF THE AUTOBOTS AND DECEPTICONS. THE ONLY THING I ASK OF YOU IS YOUR UNDYING LOYALTY.**_"

"My life for you," Weller muttered absently. And then the voice was gone and he was back in reality, acting as if nothing had happened. He had been spinning the Magnum around in his right hand throughout the whole thing, making Vine even more nervous of his situation.

"Uh, Colonel…are you feeling alright?" Vine was frowning, his eyebrows narrowed in an examining gaze.

Weller looked towards him, finding that Vine's concern was unnecessary.

"If I wasn't feeling alright Professor I would have gone to see a doctor," Weller replied bluntly.

Farnell suddenly hit the brakes of the SUV as a semi-trailer cut off their approach on the road in front of them. Weller's finger slipped on his Magnum revolver's trigger and the weapon fired, the smell of gun-smoke filling the interior of the SUV. Farnell sounded the vehicle's horn and swore loudly at the inconsiderate driver of the SUV before he turned around and gave a wide-eyed gaze towards Weller. He saw what had happened and simply gasped.  
It took Weller a moment to work out what had happened. Sure, the gun had gone off but what damage could have been done?

Farnell's gaze was fixed in the direction of the Professor. Ahead the semi-trailer that had cut them off had started driving away. Weller watched it for a moment before turning his head to see what was so damn interesting about Professor Vine.

Vine wasn't looking too good. Blood stained the cracked back window behind him while bits of brain stuck to it. Part of Vine's head had been blown away, revealing the bone beneath and the mangled brain inside. Vine had slumped stupidly in his seat, his glasses having fallen down his face so they were resting on his chin.

"Holy shit," Weller said loudly, raising an eyebrow as he spoke, "I just shot Vine in the face."

Without a hint of remorse he reached over Vine's corpse and pushed open the door next to the dead scientist. Farnell watched with absolute shock as Weller pushed Vine's corpse out of the side of the SUV, letting it land on the road outside with a dull _thump!_ Vine's glasses smashed while the protruding brain matter seeped out a little more from the hole blown in his skull, followed by a lot of oozing red blood.

Weller pulled the door shut and turned to the surprised looking Farnell.

"What are you waiting for, Captain?" Weller asked, beginning to spin the Magnum revolver around in his right hand again, "Get back to driving. We have to head for the warehouse district in Tranquility. Something tells me we'll find what we want over there."

* * *

Deadeye gazed thoughtfully down at Bumblebee's mangled carcass, shaking his head as he realized just whose fault it was. Standing near him were both Smokescreen and Depthcharge and they were as solemn as he was.

The rain had stopped but the clouds were still grey and ominous, hinting that this was only a slight respite in the storm. Ahead was the old church while the nearby road had been pockmarked with craters caused by the battle that had raged earlier. Bumblebee lay dead, a jagged hole cut through his chest that had almost completely extinguished his spark. His usually bright blue eyes were unlit and empty of life.

"We were too late," Depthcharge said, his tone low, "He did his best."

Deadeye didn't reply immediately. Rather, he clenched his right hand into a fist and tried his best to contain the rage that was building up inside him. Bumblebee had died in vain since Sam Witwicky and Jones Marshall were both captives of the Decepticons. Centurion was still at large as was Megatron and Starscream. In fact, it seemed everything was going badly for the Autobots. NEST still had next to no clue as to why Centurion was doing what he was doing and the device, the one that Centurion used to gain his powers had quite obviously fallen back into his hands.

"We have to find them," Deadeye said, turning around to face Smokescreen and Depthcharge.

"What about Bumblebee?" Smokescreen asked, nodding towards the dead Autobot, "We can't just leave him here. There might be a chance we can save him…"

"Then you can take him back to your NEST friends," Deadeye replied bluntly, "Depthcharge and I will go on and try and find Sam and that Jones guy. If they have been captured by the Decepticons…Well, we better hope we're not too late to save them."

Smokescreen and Depthcharge nodded, although the doubt was clear in their eyes. The Autobot cause had just suffered a major setback and now it seemed there would be very little chance in stopping Centurion.

Diego Garcia

Jolt awoke from sleep mode with a sudden nagging thought on his mind, one that had been only minor and easily weighed down by more important matters until now. Now this thought, or more like a "feeling" he had was beginning to take top priority over everything else.

He was currently inside the main Autobot hangar in the base on the island of Diego Garcia. He was the only one within the hangar since most of the other Autobots were either still in Austria or being dispatched on an urgent mission to the United States. Ratchet had convinced him that maybe staying behind and getting some rest in order to recover from his encounter with Centurion was the best thing he could do.

In fact, Jolt had been feeling decidedly strange lately. He wasn't so much as ill as he was feeling odd, as if there was something alien inside him that wasn't normally a part of him. Now that feeling had gone and whatever the intruding aspect had been it had fused with the rest of his personality.

He stood up, realizing now that his work had only just begun. Centurion had sent him here to act as a spy inside the Autobot ranks and Jolt would willingly carry out this task and relay all that he learned to his leader. There was a part of him that told him that this wasn't right, that this wasn't his normal self but this doubt was erased by the overwhelming feeling of confidence that flowed through Jolt as he stood up from where he had been resting.

Those who knew Jolt would have noticed the way his eyes had gone that much bluer colour, glowing in a malevolent fashion. They might have noticed Jolt's overall demeanour as the "virus" planted in him by Centurion began to assert control over his personality. The normal Jolt was gone now, replaced with one that swore loyalty to Centurion and Unicron.

And with a sudden overwhelming sense of purpose Jolt set out to start his espionage activities. As he went he had a smile on his metallic features, one that others who saw him would find unnerving.

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * *

**Author's Ramblings**

(To be either read or ignored)

The original plan I had was for this to be one story but since it was becoming so long, I've decided to split it in two. The second "Volume" I've only just started work on, but I'm not spoiling anything by saying that it's far more action-oriented than Volume I. With the story set up in Volume I, I can simply start the next one right from the get-go. I've got many things planned for Volume II, including a rather unfortunate (but nowhere near fatal) fate for Sam Witwicky and a massive battle in and around the Venezuelan city of Maracaibo.

I've always thought that with all the rather noticeable things the Cybertronians do on Earth, some humans are bound to try and take advantage of them and the advanced technology they wield. Hence I created Sector Eight, lead by Colonel Weller as a plausible and quite real threat to the Autobots. And Unicron, a planet-sized planet-devouring evil bastard would make an excellent main villain, not that he actually shows up in Volume I. And killing off Ironhide and Bumblebee might have been a bit harsh but it was all for the purpose of the story: the good guys still have no real idea about what's going on and thus the best they can hope to do is survive. I had aimed to write a dark Transformers story as my own interpretation of what should happen in the third film and I think I succeeded. Characters like Smokescreen and Depthcharge are actually in the second movie's toy line whereas others like Prometheus and Centurion are my own creations. Human characters like the priest, James Turner and the whiny guy, Jones Marshall, stem from an original plan I wrote years ago where I was going to write my own "sequel" to the first film. Since I never did do that, I decided to use them in this story. And the whole World War II thing early in the story came from an idea I had for this previously planned Transformers story, except in that plan it was set in World War I in the battlefields of France. I changed it to World War II and Operation Market Garden since I had recently planned through the classic game, _Medal of Honor: Frontline_ where arguably the best level is set in the war-torn city of Arnhem during Operation Market Garden.

I may go back and edit the very first chapter since I'm not too pleased with it, but otherwise I'm happy with the way this story progressed. There are probably a few plot holes but then again, both Transformers movies had plenty of those.

I've hoped you enjoyed reading this story since I had fun writing it.


End file.
